- Rating:
- R
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Characters:
- Hermione Granger
- Genres:
- Horror Mystery
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Order of the Phoenix
- Stats:
-
Published: 09/07/2003Updated: 07/27/2004Words: 16,982Chapters: 5Hits: 2,051
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dented-sky
- Story Summary:
- The Slytherins are playing with Resurrection Spells, the Ravenclaws are obsessed with fighting, the Hufflepuffs are constantly high and all the Gryffindors want to do is talk about sex. Pansy Parkinson is fed up and Hermione Granger is forever asking the question: Is it the key to Immortality or Fates chance for Love after Death? Darkfic, femslash.
Chapter 05
- Chapter Summary:
- Harry opens up and Pansy breaks. Things can only get worse, and it's up to Hermione to solve the mystery before it is too late.
- Posted:
- 07/27/2004
- Hits:
- 284
She
takes it into stride
And waits it on the shore
Sure enough beside the
sand
Is that little something more
Hermione woke up three mornings
later in Harry's empty bed.
Most the beds in the Gryffindor seventh year
dormitory were empty, because, she assumed, the boys had gotten up early for
their morning Quidditch practice. However, Harry had been absent from his for
the past few nights, because he was sick and being treated in the Hospital Wing.
She had refused to sleep with Ron that night, and instead had decided to sleep
in Harry's empty one. It smelt strongly of him - the musky scent of sweaty skin,
plain shampoo and the pumpkin juice he always had on his breath. She rolled over
onto her front and breathed in his essence from the pillow.
There was a
shuffle heard from within the room as Seamus' bed curtains were pushed
aside.
She looked up sleepily and saw Anthony in the only other occupied
bed in the room, naked and grinning bashfully. The sunlight filtering through
the window blinded her and she blinked.
"So when are you going to tell
them?" croaked Hermione.
Anthony's welcoming smile faltered. "Well good
morning to you too."
"Today, I hope."
"Well today was a good
morning until you -"
"I meant I hope you tell them today."
Anthony
rolled his eyes and fell back against the pillows, exhaling exhaustedly. "Yeah,
maybe tomorrow."
Hermione, still in yesterday's clothes, got
up.
She walked out the dorm and Anthony called after her to wait for him
in the Common Room.
Ten minutes later they were walking to the Hospital
Wing, when they passed Professor Weasley's office. They shyly said Hello as he
walked out, looking flushed and distracted.
"Rumour has it he's sleeping
with a student," Anthony whispered to Hermione when the professor was almost out
of earshot.
"He's not," Hermione lied.
"But look at him! All mused
and flustered! Bet he had a big night last night."
"That's
revolting."
"Oh no," Anthony deadpanned, smiling. "He's absolutely
gorgeous. Wouldn't mind taking him for a ride, so."
She pursed her lips
and flicked a strand of hair away from her face. "I think your sex schedule is a
bit full, don't you."
He chuckled. "Oh, ouch, that killed
me."
As soon as they got to their destination, Hermione ran into the room
and up to Harry's usual bed. "Hey," she gasped, "how are you
feeling?"
Harry was extremely pale with strange blotches here and there,
as if someone had painted his face with plaster then smeared purple eye shadow
for blusher. Hermione and Anthony leaned over and peered at him
closely.
"Have you been in a fight mate?" Anthony blurted.
Harry
looked absolutely exhausted, though his emerald eyes were bright with manic
activity. He nodded and looked away.
Hermione crossed her arms and
straightened. "I think you better go," she told Anthony. He took the cue and
left.
She waited. Finally Harry said quietly, "I was released last night,
but I didn't get very far. Ran straight into Malfoy, that bastard, and before I
knew it," he grinned and faced her, "we were rolling all over the floor, trying
to punch each other to death."
"Merlin, Harry," Hermione sighed as she
pulled up a chair and sat down.
He bit his dry lips thoughtfully. "You
know," a deep breath, "he was really ready to kill me. Said that I killed his
father."
"And did you?"
Harry's eyes widened and he stared at her,
his eyes searching hers. "No," he said boldly.
Hermione shrugged. "Well I
don't know do I? You never tell me anything about that night."
He looked
away and she grabbed his warm hand and held onto it tightly. He was everything
to her; her best friend, her brother, her almost-spouse.
"I didn't kill
Lucius Malfoy," said Harry softly.
"If you say so, then I believe
you."
"But I did," he took a deep breath, "kill the others. I had to, and
then I thought Sirius was back and then I was so glad, because it meant I had a
one over Bellatrix Lestrange but I didn't. In the end."
"But Malfoy
doesn't believe you?"
Harry squinted in thought. "It's all in his head,"
he sighed. "No matter what I say, it won't register. There's something seriously
wrong with his brain."
So Malfoy had psychological problems. But Hermione
had figured that out herself a while ago. She sat and rubbed her thumb across
Harry's hand, and waited.
He was going into some kind of trance. He
began, "I apparated outside Malfoy Manor, knowing that Lestrange and Wormtail
would be there. Lucius too, I wanted to kill him, for Ginny." Here he glanced in
the direction of the other hospital beds. Of course, Ginny was not in; it was
obvious to Hermione she had spent the night with her brother. But Lavender lay
on her back in a bed, pale and unmoving.
"Have you found out anything
about what's causing the sickness?" Harry asked suddenly, startling Hermione.
Harry's eyes were wide and focused again, which made Hermione feel a bit
disappointed. She wanted to hear his story.
"I'm working on
it."
His face darkened and he looked away. "Yes I heard. You're getting
help from Pansy Parkinson." As he spoke his bruises started to disappear. He
must have drunk a healing potion before she came in, and it was starting to do
its job.
"She's helpful."
"Don't trust her," Harry muttered.
"Don't. She has issues."
But Hermione wanted to trust her. "What sort of
issues?"
"She can keep a grudge to her grave. She's one of those girls
who seems calm on the outside but all the while there's hate boiling inside. It
grows and grows on and on forever."
Hermione clicked her tongue. "Oh
please, Harry, don't be so dramatic. So, what happened the night Lucius Malfoy
disappeared?"
"What?" He yawned. "I went to Malfoy Manor and… I hate this
story. Um, I don't really remember. Kinda blurry."
"Were you on
something?"
"No. What is this, Twenty Questions?"
Hermione said
nothing, staring at Harry stonily. If she did not move, maybe he would think her
a statue and talk his heart out.
"I killed people, alright?" He sat up
suddenly. "I killed Wormtail, then I killed Bellatrix Lestrange. Then I went
after Malfoy, but someone else had gotten to him first."
"Was he dead?"
Hermione tried to keep her voice a calm monotone, but it was very hard to do
with the amount of thought and emotion buzzing through her body.
"No. But
he had been tortured. A lot."
"Who did it to him?"
A pause. "I…
don't know."
"Didn't you see who was with him?"
"Yes I did. But my
memory has been erased." They stared at each other. "I realize that
now."
Harry was hungry. Together the two of them went to breakfast, then
Ron joined them and they went for a walk down to Hagrid's cottage.
Ron
lit a joint. "Just tell Hagrid I've already eaten," he requested of his two best
friends. "I can't eat his rock cakes, no way!" To take the stress away from
being Head Boy, Ron often took drugs, which were aplenty in a school for
wizards. But taking drugs meant constipation, which meant Ron was never hungry
unless he was coming down from a high. Ron made sure he was never coming down
from a high.
They entered and Hagrid greeted them joyfully, offering tea,
which they accepted. He asked Harry how he was feeling, and Harry said he was
fine, which Hermione knew was a lie. They had conversations about school, and
Hagrid talked about his classes, and the animals he had in store for his
students. At some point Ron rolled up some paper and snorted a line of Mandrake
pollen.
Hermione was about to report to Hagrid of her progress with Grawp
and his mate, when something cold crept up along her neck. At first she thought
it was merely a fly and swatted it away, but then she realized it was creeping
under her collar and over the bare skin of her back, chest and shoulders. She
paled when she realized it was very suddenly hard to breathe.
Harry
slumped forward and his head hit the table.
Ron was shaking him,
demanding what was wrong.
Hermione heard none of it.
She turned in
her seat and froze at the figure of Him, staring at her through the window. Ice
crept along the glass and mist spread through the air. He lifted a finger and
pointed to his right.
A few minutes before, Pansy Parkinson had been
running. She was unsure of what she was running from; it may have been fear,
sadness, a broken heart. It was not as if Draco would come after her, no, he
would have caught her by now. It just went to show he did not care. But Merlin,
it hurt, it hurt so much, and perhaps, just maybe, that was what she was running
from: the hurt. Either that or she was running from the fact that she was hurt,
running from the hate she had for herself because she was not supposed to
care!
And, a few minutes before the running, she had been in her dorm
room. She had seen with angry eyes Draco fucking Daphne Greengrass on the bed
next to Pansy's own.
Well.
She knew it happened. Everyone knew, in
fact, and she was not one to care. She heard the rumours and raised an eyebrow
and said, "That's Draco, that's what he does." Not a tear shed, not a
tear.
Perhaps that was what she was running from: the fact that, after
all this time of not crying, she had finally burst into tears. It was one thing
to hear about Draco, it was quite another to see it. And with one of her
so-called friends as well.
So Pansy ran, and sobbed, and cried. She ran
through the corridors of the Dungeons. Ran up the moving stairs and through the
halls filled with light. Ran through the doorway and outside.
She ran
across the lawns and down the hill and to the lake and did not stop running. She
fell into the water and it surrounded her.
Nearby a figure was standing,
pointing in Parkinson's direction. As soon as Hermione left Hagrid's cottage, it
disappeared. But her focus had gone to something else. The lake rippled near the
shore, as if there were movement just below the surface.
It was Hermione
running, this time.
Cold water hit her ancles and soaked into her shoes.
She paused, caught her breath, then dived.
The Hogwarts Lake was known to
be deep and murky and to be the home of the Giant Squid. There were also weeds,
which scrapped and grappled onto Hermione's limbs, and twisted in her hair. Her
fingers caught onto something a little more solid.
She grabbed Parkinson
by the arm, and then pulled her up a little higher so she could circle her arms
around the slim waist.
Their head broke the surface; one slumped down
onto the other's shoulder. Ron and Harry were in the water up to their busts,
and helped the girls get closer to shore. The girls kneeled in the shallow
water.
Parkinson was waking up. She mumbled something against Hermione's
neck and the hands pressed against her back moved. The white cotton of their
shirts clung to their skin and the water made the material slightly transparent.
The Slytherin slowly lifted her head, her lips sliding against Hermione's jaw.
Her hands fell to Hermione's stocking clad thighs.
"I'm really sorry,"
Parkinson rasped, and kissed her.
It was cold, wet and sloppy, unlike the
soft, warm, firm feeling Hermione had imagined. She was aware of Harry and Ron
standing nearby.
Hagrid thundered down the hill. "Yer all righ'
thur?"
Parkinson abruptly stood up, knocking Hermione over onto her
elbows. "I'm fine," Parkinson snapped, her hands flying to her messy blonde
hair, then over to smooth down her clinging wet skirt. She turned to the boys.
"What are you looking at!" Ron shut his gaping mouth. "Peed your knickers, have
you? That excited to see a girl in a wet T-shirt, are you?" She stomped up the
shore and pushed past them, and walked fast up the hill.
Harry was
looking a little pale, and was staring at Hermione, who looked away from his
green glare. "What a bitch," Ron mumbled. Hermione wanted to cry.
As Head
Girl, Pansy had access to the Prefects' Bathroom. She took a bath and ordered an
elf to get her some clothes. It reappeared with jeans and a jumper.
When
Pansy returned to the Slytherin commons, she was resolute in her plan of action.
Predictably, Sigma, Artemis and Zabini were sitting up the back in the
shadows.
"A fish out of water, you are," said Zabini.
"What you
want, then?" said Sigma. "Rather not see your ugly face, so just get lost,
alright."
Pansy took a deep breath and held her chin up. "I want to say
I'm sorry." The other three looked at her with a little more interest than
before. "And I think we should be friends again."
They stared. Pansy
stared back.
Artemis let out a little sigh. Sigma said, "It's about time,
you thick cunt."
To Be Continued.