Distorted Reflections

CHAPTER SIX

Harry stared at Hermione. Just a moment ago she had been laughing merrily -- now she was trembling. "I can't marry you," she repeated hesitantly.

Harry looked hard at her, his fingers straying to the ruby gem on his wrist. He felt oddly calm, despite the fact that Hermione had just rejected him. Again. "Why not?" he asked evenly.

Hermione shook her head desperately and stumbled back. "It's complicated," she said.

"How complicated?"

"Very." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and chewed her lip.

Harry noted Hermione's uncharacteristic behavior with a trace of concern. Whatever it is that's so complicated, he thought, it must be very hard on her. He wanted to pull her to him and comfort her, but something in the back of his mind told him not to push his luck, so he remained where he was. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

Hermione opened her eyes again, and looked at him mournfully. "No, I won't," she said, softly but firmly. "I can't!"

Instinct told Harry to fall into despair, but another voice spoke, a stronger one. Don't break down, it said. Do not break down. It will cost you everything you've worked for.

Harry listened to that voice. "Very well, Hermione," he said. "I don't want to make you unhappy, and if marrying you will harm you in any way, than it's out of the question."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Harry, I've hurt you again!" she gasped, and rushed to him, embracing him warmly. "Harry, you have to understand this. I love you, very much. And I would marry you, of course I would! But I can't. I'm sorry for what I'm doing to you, but I just - it's -"

"Complicated," Harry finished for her. "I know, you've told me. And I'm not hurt, Hermione."

Hermione stepped back, examining him closely. "You're not hurt? But I just -"

"I'm not hurt." Harry's tone was fixed and certain. "Leave if you must, but I love you, and I only want you to know that."

Hermione nodded, and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know, and I love you too. But I have to go now," she said, flinching slightly as she awaited Harry's response.

"So do I," Harry answered, though he didn't really. He was still feeling curiously relaxed about the entire situation, and couldn't quite explain why that was.

Hermione's tense expression softened, and she leaned toward Harry and kissed him fleetingly. Harry closed his eyes and tried to slide his hand around her waist -- but his fingers touched nothing but frosted air. He was suddenly conscious of the emptiness on his lips, and the coldness which played across them lightly in the place of Hermione's warm touch. He opened his eyes, to find himself staring at the fountain, whose nymphs were all looking at him with interest, their round mouths still dripping clear water.

Hermione was gone. Harry presumed she had Apparated to... to wherever she needed to go. He stood up and walked back into the enormous room, ignoring the nymphs, who winked meaningfully at him as he went past. I'd better find Clarice, he realized, scrutinizing the ballroom floor for signs of lavender. At last he spotted Clarice, who was sipping a drink serenely near the entrance. He moved through several nimble dancers to reach her, smiling as she looked up and saw him.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "How did it go?"

"Hullo, Clarice," Harry responded.

Clarice's eyes widened as Harry drew near. "Harry, you're cheeks and robes are soaked! Have you been crying?"

Harry shook his head. "Actually, Hermione was crying. On me, that is, which explains the robes. And the fountain out there is spraying water everywhere, hence the face."

"Ah," said Clarice. "I take it things went well."

"Well, actually, I proposed to her, and she said no," said Harry. "But we did clear some things up, which was nice."

Clarice's eyes were already radiant with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said gently.

"Don't be. Hermione was sorry enough already."

"What happened?"

Harry sighed. "She told me she loved me, and she kissed me, and was very apologetic, but things were complicated, evidently, and she had to leave. Right away."

Clarice lifted an eyebrow bemusedly. "Did she say why?"

Harry shook his head casually. "No, actually, she wouldn't tell me anything of importance. She's becoming very secretive, which isn't really like her, and it's rather exasperating."

Clarice looked at him hard. "How are you okay with this?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, but I just can't seem to get mad. Literally, I mean. It's not that I'm not trying to be frustrated. I just... I just can't seem to figure it out."

It was obvious that Harry's response did little to satisfy Clarice's curiosity, but she said nothing else on the subject. "What do you think we should do now?"

"I'd like to go home, if that's all right with you," Harry replied, suddenly feeling exhausted. Dealing with Hermione and her queer habits was more tiring than he had expected.

"It's fine; they haven't played the kind of music I like, which is pure cause for discontentment," said Clarice lightly.

Harry laughed. "All right, let's go." He looked around him. "Where are Yvette and Ron?"

Clarice snorted and jerked a thumb behind her at the grand doors. "Somewhere out in the trees, no doubt. Doing something sinful."

"Ugh, let's not think about that," Harry said, grimacing.

"You're the one who brought it up."

"Yes, and it's all my fault," said Harry, grinning broadly. "Now let's leave. I don't think we need to tell Ron and Yvette that we're going; they'll probably figure it out and come back to the inn later. Or maybe they won't, in which case I think it's safe to assume that they won't be thinking too much about where we are."

Clarice shoved him, looking revolted, and together they passed through the double doors and Apparated into the night, swarms of Lluminesces around them humming classical concertos with their miniscule wings.

Moments later, Harry and Clarice reappeared in the lobby of the Tin Parrot. The bar was nearly empty, with the exception of Neville and an old, toothless witch in the corner, snoring with her face in the counter and an empty glass of brandy clutched in her fist.

"Back so soon?" said Neville, rising from his place at the bar, and coming to greet them.

"The ball was rather dull," said Harry.

"Yes, overly expensive things tend to be," said Neville cynically. "No, Harry, I don't mind that you flounced away those ridiculously overpriced tickets I bought you, but thanks for asking."

Harry cringed. "Neville, I'm sorry," he said.

"Harry, I'm joking!" said Neville, flinging his arms out and smashing one wrist against the frame around a picture of a pair of lethargic blackbirds. The picture tilted drastically to one side, causing the birds to fully awaken and twitter furiously until Neville righted the frame.

"Um," said Harry.

"Come on, Harry, I wouldn't bully you for something like that. Who cares about the ball? Balls are usually stuffy anyway. How did the bit with Hermione go?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Clarice interjected. "They said they loved each other, and they kissed and hugged and everything was just lovely, up until the point when Harry proposed and she ran away," she said.

"Thank you, Clarice," Harry said sarcastically.

"Anytime," she retorted, beaming angelically and and winking.

Neville was looking bewildered. "Is she serious?" he asked Harry, nodding in Clarice's direction.

"Yes," said Harry. "So?"

"And you're still alive?" said Neville, his jaw dropping.

"Neville, it's late, and keeping up a love/hate relationship with Hermione has made me very weary, so would you mind giving me the slightest hint as to what exactly you're on about?" Harry said, his tone more impatient than he had intended.

"Harry, last time she did this, you fell apart," Neville said matter-of-factly.

"What does he mean, 'the last time?' " Clarice interrupted again. "Harry, you've talked to Hermione before?"

"Yesterday," said Harry. "For the first time in five years. And, if you recall, I did not fall apart, I was perfectly calm."

"You were not, you were a smoldering pile of Harry-dust," said Neville.

"You visited her when?" Clarice asked.

"I was no such thing. Maybe a little disoriented, but I wasn't a smoldering anything," responded Harry. "And I told you, yesterday."

"Harry, don't lie, Ron and I practically had to sweep you up with a whisk broom," Neville rejoined with a sarcastic smile.

"Was Hermione all right with you visiting her yesterday? Did you warn her?"

"Would you both just HOLD ON?!" Harry shouted. "First of all, Neville, I was merely evaluating my situation. I may have been... unsettled, but I was most certainly not lost. And Clarice: I did warn Hermione that I was coming, and she was unhappy that I had come, but only because she did not know how to talk to me and tell me what she really felt about me."

"Really?" said Neville curiously. "I thought it was because she hated your guts."

"Neville --"

"I was kidding!"

"Once again, I seem to have missed the humor," said Harry dryly.

Neville rolled his eyes, then stopped, appearing to have realized something. "Hey, where are Ron and... what was his date's name?"

"Yvette," said Harry. "And I'll give you three guesses as to where they are right now, but only one as to what they're doing."

"Ah," said Neville. "Right. Well, I guess that just leaves us here, doesn't it?"

"I suppose," said Harry resignedly. "If no one else minds, I think I'll go up to bed."

"Sure," said Neville. "Come, Clarice, we shall talk." He looked meaningfully at her, then at Harry, and then back at her.

"Of course," said Clarice, catching on. "See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Good night," Harry replied, and tramped up the stairs to his room. He opened the door with a wave of his wand, and flopped onto the bed, sighing. Hedwig shifted drowsily from her place near the window, then covered her snowy face with her wing and resumed sleep.

Harry lay on the bed for a while, thinking about nothing in particular. Just as he was drifting into slumber, a sharp rap sounded at the door, causing him to sit up.

"Come in," he said groggily.

A thin face with long, straight hair peeked around the heavy door, smiling shyly. "I hope I didn't wake you up," said Clarice.

"Well, it doesn't matter much now," said Harry, grumpy in spite of himself. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering how you were doing," said Clarice, and blushed.

"Quite well, thank you. If you don't mind now, I think I'll go back to sleep." Harry answered, blinking.

"Oh -- wait! Before you do, there's... something I think you should know." Clarice's cheeks were twin spots of color, very bright and red.

"Yes?" said Harry.

"I... well, that is, I... never mind, I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said, and closed the door quickly.

"Well, whatever that was, I don't know," thought Harry aloud. Yawning loudly, he settled back against his pillow, and slowly drifted into sleep, his glasses askew on his face.

Harry was having a dream. He and Hermione were at the top of a tall tower, open on all sides. He was chained to a rock, and wearing nothing but a pair of torn and tattered trousers with a large rip in the side. Hermione was in a large, buttery silk ball gown, riding on the back of an enormous Lluminesce. She was shouting, and waving something in the air, but he could neither hear her nor see what the object was.

Suddenly she flung whatever was in her hand at the cold stone floor of the tower, and it shattered into thousands of little red bits. She had broken the ruby bracelet! Hermione screamed, and disappeared.

Suddenly, with a whirl of smoke and a foul stench, a strange and terrifying creature sprang from the heart of the ruby. It wore coal-black and was an exact clone of Harry himself, with several disturbing and noticeable differences. The tips of its hair glistened silver at the edges, and its eyes were white. Eggshell white, with no irises, no pupils - just pure, milky white, smooth and pale as chalk. Two fangs protruded over its lower lip, and it flexed its long fingers, which Harry was horrified to see bore black claws as long and sharp as daggers.

The creature licked its lips with a black, forked tongue like a snake's, and spoke in a raspy, earsplitting voice, like fingernails being driven across a chalkboard -- Rettopyrrah! I have come for you! You cannot escape me ... And then it pounced on him, and he felt its thick claws gouge out his eyes --

Harry sat up, drenched in sweat, a pounding in his ears, and immediately felt relief that he was still alive and safe. That dream had been so real ... he shivered. There was something still thumping loudly in his ears. Was that his heart? No, it couldn't be, it was uneven. Suddenly he realized it was coming from the door. Someone -- or something -- was knocking. Trembling, he stood, walked slowly over to the door, and pulled it open, afraid of what he might see. Yet he never expected who was really there.

"Hermione!"

"Hello, Harry," said Hermione, her eyes anxious and kind. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry, but this couldn't wait."

"Yeah, yeah," said Harry. "That's the second time I've been woken up tonight. What do you want?"

Hermione's lip quivered. "I'll go if you want me to," she said, and turned to leave.

"No," said Harry. "I apologize for being rude, I'm just cranky. Ignore me."

Hermione nodded, and stepped back toward him. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You know that ruby bracelet you're wearing?"

Harry's mouth fell open. How does she know about that? he wondered, before recalling the fact that he had worn it in front of her, at the Candle Ball, and at her house. "It's a wristband," he said, without thinking. "But, yes..."

"I want it back."

Anyone to call Harry surprised at that moment would be uttering a severe understatement. Harry stepped back, overwhelmed and speechless, realization gleaming in his eyes. "It was you? You sent this thing to me?"

Hermione's empathetic expression deepened. "Of course," she said softly. "I picked it up in an old antique shop in our seventh year at Hogwarts. I wanted to give it to you, the night you told me -- everything, but I couldn't work up the courage, so I put it in your trunk, hoping you would find it and know. Didn't you?"

"I did not," said Harry curtly. "I had no idea." He was feeling rather annoyed at Hermione as of this second. She had left him at the fountain in confusion, without explaining anything or wanting to. And now, here she was, in the middle of the night, prepared to clear it all up. No she isn't, Harry realized. She doesn't want to clear anything up. She just wants the bracelet.

"What caused this change of heart?" he asked her.

Hermione looked taken aback. She obviously hadn't expected an argument. "What?"

"I said, what caused this change of heart?" Harry repeated. "Hermione, you don't leave someone in suspense and then just suddenly show up at his door at two in the morning."

"I told you I was sorry," Hermione said, swallowing noticeably.

"And I said I forgive you. But what is so special about this bracelet, that makes you want it so badly that you had to come here now?"

Hermione sighed. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, so is everything. Considering the fact that you just woke me up at this abysmal hour, I'm hoping for your sake that there's a good reason. And I don't really care if it's complicated, I think I can take it." Harry was afraid for a moment that he had hurt Hermione's feelings, which he had not intended to do, but Hermione only sighed again and looked over his shoulder at the room behind him.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

He opened the door. "I guess, yeah."

Hermione stepped into the room, looked around, and then turned to face him. "Nice place. How does Neville maintain it so well?" she asked.

"Hermione, don't change the subject." Harry looked straight into her eyes. Hermione shuddered at the burn of his glare. "Tell me about this ruby business."

"Well, it really isn't that complicated," Hermione said. "I bought the bracelet after you talked with me. I knew you were heartbroken, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to face you, so I bought this charm in an old shop and put a spell on it."

"What was the spell?"

"I can't remember what it was called. Something with a D, or an M. Anyway, the shop where I bought this had a smaller room I wandered into, while looking for something for you. In it were all sorts of old spells. I found one that was in a language I couldn't read, but the shopkeeper told me it was a spell to cheer someone up, like a cheering charm, but it lasts a long time. The spell would have to be put on an object, so I picked out this bracelet as my object, and the shopkeeper cast the spell, because I couldn't pronounce any of the words."

"So, when I came back from your house, I wasn't as heartbroken as I might have been," said Harry slowly. "And I became myself again in an hour, not five years like the last time. And then, at the fountain, when you left me..."

"You were all right because of the bracelet," Hermione finished. "Right. At first I didn't realize why you weren't upset, but I understood after I had left you, and knew I would have to come visit you."

"I still don't know why you want this thing," said Harry. "I mean, if I need it to go on with my life, I think I should keep it, don't you?"

Hermione smiled gently. "Don't you see, Harry?" she said. "I'm traumatized, just as you are. I'm just more closed off with my emotions than you. I need that bracelet more than you."

"No," said Harry. All of a sudden he felt very angry at Hermione. He wanted to shout at her, hurt her, do anything to make her leave. It was a brief sensation - it only lasted for a second - but it made him feel very weak, and nauseous, and completely sick of himself.

"Please," he said pleadingly. "Hermione, don't take it from me."

"Oh, Harry," she said. She sauntered up to him, took his hand, and kissed him. For a split second, Harry relaxed, and embraced her. Suddenly he became aware of what she was trying to do - but it was too late. Hermione snatched the bracelet from his wrist, flung him a look of severe regret, and bolted out the door.

Harry didn't try to follow her. He couldn't. When Hermione had removed that bracelet, he had felt something go out of him, like a part of his soul had been lost. He found himself unable to move. And all at once he felt very, very tired. He slowly crumpled on the bed and curled up, his eyes glassy and lackluster behind the lenses of his glasses. All that he could think about, all that crossed his mind, was the bracelet.

What has Hermione done to me? he wondered, trembling as he felt tears of agony slide over his cheeks. He wanted to get up and follow Hermione - follow her and threaten her, even beat her, until she returned the bracelet - but he did not have the energy. He felt barely capable of breathing.

Sleep, that's all I need, Harry thought. Yes, I'll sleep, and then I'll get up tomorrow and find Hermione and -- Something inside of him stopped him from finishing that sentence, and he grasped the fact that he would never, ever hurt Hermione. He wondered for an instant why he would even think such things, before a racking sob overwhelmed him and he was forced to let the thought go. As he gradually shut his aching eyelids, a thought flashed in his mind.

What is that bracelet? Moreover, what is that spell?

With that last piece of curiosity adrift in his conscience, Harry plummeted into a shadowed, drunken, dreamless sleep.