All is Lost

Chapter 2 - Lasscrayam Nepred, Part I

It was late October, and Hogwarts grounds were still and silent. Inside the castle, however, preparations were being made for the Halloween feast later that week. Food was being prepared, decorations were being made, and pumpkins the size of parasols were seen growing behind Hagrid´s hut. Harry sat in the common room that Tuesday evening with Ron and Hermione, and he was filled with this strange kind of unearthly energy that seemed to come from nowhere. He still wasn´t sleeping properly, and it had now been over five weeks since he´d told Hermione about his constant nightmares. Ron still didn´t know, and Harry wasn´t about to tell him. As far as he was concerned, if Ron didn´t ask, Ron didn´t get, and this wasn´t the type on information he´d let go of easily. He didn´t know why he was hesitant about telling Ron; they usually told each other everything, but something held him back.

"Bloody hell, this is impossible," screamed Ron, throwing down his quill in temper. He was in the middle of his divination homework (`Explain how the Saturn Rings can influence your mood´) and extremely testy.

"How come you´re not doing it, Harry?" said Ron in exasperation. "You´re not dropping divination as well, are you? `Cause I couldn´t cope having lessons with that old freak by myself."

"I haven´t given it up," said Harry matter-of-factly, "I´ve just already done it."

"When?" said Ron astounded, "I haven´t seen you do any work all year. When do you do it, one in the morning?" Ron said this, of course, served with a large side order of sarcasm, but he didn´t know how right he was. Harry had been doing his work in the dead of night, to give himself an excuse not to go to bed. It was working quite well so far. He found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after doing schoolwork, or a good hard Quidditch training session.

Harry warily looked over towards Hermione, knowing full well that she would be able to figure out when he was doing his work. She looked at him disapprovingly, but to Harry´s relief, didn´t say anything.

Ron sighed. "I dunno, Harry," he said, "either you´re up to something, or you´ve managed to get a time turner. Personally, I think you´re up to something, but if you were, you´d tell me and Hermione about it, wouldn´t you?"

Ron looked at Harry, daring him to tell them that he actually was up to something. But Harry just shook his head, smiled, and said tactfully, "I´m doing nothing more than I usually do." This was entirely true. Harry wasn´t doing more of anything; it was what he was doing less of that was the problem. "And now I´m going to bed!" he said, so as to avoid any more awkward questioning. Ron still looked slightly suspicious, but he said goodnight none the less. However, Hermione looked too disgusted to speak.

Harry got up into the dormitory and went through to the bathroom to brush his teeth, but when he looked into the mirror, the site shocked him. The bags under his eyes from countless sleepless nights looked like thick black smudges against his deathly pale skin. He hadn´t been hungry the last couple of weeks so he hadn´t been eating properly, and even though he was skinny before, it was nothing on what he looked like now. No wonder Ron thinks I´m up to something, he thought. He was nothing more than skin and bone and Harry was disgusted that he had let himself get like that. He reached up a finger to touch his cheek, just to make sure he was seeing correctly, but this was no trick of the light.

"I´m pathetic!" He said aloud and marched purposefully down to his four poster, all thoughts of brushing his teeth forgotten. He changed into his pajamas and got into bed, even though he wasn´t the least bit tired. He was determined to get a good night´s sleep. He had let the situation get way out of hand. But how he would come to regret this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was standing in a pitch-black room. All he could see was a metal table in the centre, with a man chained to it at his wrists and ankles. He wore nothing but a pair of old faded jeans and round glasses, and had messy raven hair that stood out vividly on his forehead.

Dad?

Harry thought questionably, but he didn´t have time to say anything as at that instant, five Death Eaters Apparated into the room, and with them was Voldemort. They placed themselves in a ring around Harry´s father, Voldemort at James´ head, making Harry crane his head to get a better view.

"Now," said Voldemort calmly, brandishing his wand as he talked to James, "I do not expect this to be fun for you, or easy. But I do, however, think that we shall enjoy this little...performance," he said, gesturing to the other five. They all sniggered, but nothing more. Voldemort hadn´t seemed to have noticed Harry.

Do something,

Harry thought desperately to his father. Anything. Just get away from them.

"How about a little dose of pain to start us off with shall we?" said Voldemort, turning his attention back to James. "Crucio!"

The screaming issuing from his father´s mouth made Harry´s ears ring as James thrashed helplessly on the tabletop. But then he realised the screaming wasn´t only coming from James´ mouth, but also from his own. Harry was screaming too, screaming at his father. He had to get to him. He had to help him. He knew what it was like and didn´t want anyone else to go through that, especially his Dad. He tried to run to him, but his legs didn´t seem to want to move. Come on, he thought desperately, move you idiot! But it was hopeless. He looked up just in time to see Voldemort drawing a knife from somewhere deep within his robes and bring it down toward James´ chest.

The Cruciatus curse had now stopped and the only thing Harry could hear was the beating of his own heart. Not only was he unable to move but unable to breathe, too full of panic and anticipation to even think. But he knew he had to do something.

"You don´t necessarily need to be a wizard to issue torture," Voldemort hissed as the death eaters raptly watched. He then drew a long, deep gash over his fathers´ heart and Harry gasped in horror as Voldemort opened the wound with his bare fingers. The look of contained pain clearly showed on James´ face as he refused to cry out. It felt as if an iron fist had gripped itself around Harry´s stomach as Voldemort drew the dagger above his head. Harry knew what he was about to do and he kept telling himself to move but it was impossible.

"Just move for God´s sake," Harry eventually called out as a disturbed grin spread across Voldemort´s pale face. He brought the dagger down and just as he was about to run it through James´ heart, Harry awoke drenched in a cold sweat, breathe quickened.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione lay back on the side of the pool sized tub in the prefects´ bathroom, sweet scents from the numerous amounts of bubbles surrounding her, filling her grateful senses. She closed her eyes, completely relaxed, and let the stresses of her work-consumed life slowly escape her. If only she could stay like this forever, but...

Crash

Hermione gasped in surprise, making her feet slip on the bottom of the bath and her head snapped and made a defining crack as it hit the side. And to top it all off, she swallowed some particularly foul tasting suds making her splutter. In all the confusion of her trying to get her footing back, Hermione didn´t notice the tall blonde boy walking calmly in to meet her.

She was still struggling when the boy said, "Need a hand Granger?" That just made her slip and stutter even more in surprise, especially after she found out who the owner of the voice was.

"Malfoy!" She screamed, making as far away from him as possible. "Get out. Now!"

"Don´t you even want to know how I got in here, or why I wanted to come in here to see a dirty little Mudblood like you?"

"Just get out!" Hermione screamed, making sure she was completely shielded by the bubbles.

"And why might I want to do that?" he said, mocking her.

"But why would you want to stay?" she said disbelievingly.

"I´m a fifteen year old guy, why do you think I´d want to stay?"

"That´s disgusting!" Hermione almost screamed, making Draco throw his head back laughing.

"You don´t think I´m the only person thinking abut it now, do you, Granger? And you certainly are a sight to behold. I don´t mind telling you that!"

"Malfoy, I´m not an object," she said, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible while going red from embarrassment and being completely furious.

"Well you don´t expect me to treat you like something worth caring about?"

"Only you would say something like that, Malfoy."

Draco smiled and walked slowly over to the pile of towels in the corner of the room. Hermione didn´t take her eyes off of him once. Draco lazily picked up a towel from the top of the pile, and threw it towards the edge of the bath.

"Here," he said, "a present."

Glad for something to cover herself up, Hermione went to the edge the bath towards the towel, where she very awkwardly tried to cover herself up, and get out at the same time, much to the amusement of Draco.

"So," Hermione began, "what do you want?"

"Come here and I´ll tell you," he said, in his silkiest voice, leaning against the wall. Hermione took a few steps forwards, too apprehensive to get more than a few paces away. "You can come closer. I won´t hurt you." So, against her better judgment, Hermione moved closer. Only curiosity made her do it. But as soon as she was in reaching distance, Draco grabbed the tops of her arms, spun her round and pinned her to the wall. For such a small boy he was surprisingly strong, and however much Hermione struggled, she could not get away. Draco put his mouth very close to Hermione´s ear and whispered

"Do you know what I want? I want you."

Frightened tears started to fall down Hermione´s cheeks as she struggled even more in Draco´s harsh grip. But he didn´t stop there, and Hermione screwed her eyes up and started to sob as Draco lavishly kissed her ear.

Hermione couldn´t take it any more as she finally managed to escape her grip, and she ran out of the room without a single look back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day Harry and Ron didn´t see Hermione at breakfast.

"Where the hell is she?" said Ron for the thousandth time. "I mean, she´s never late for breakfast `cause she never wants to be late for class."

"Yes, Ron, I know," said an exasperated Harry. "You´ve said the same thing over and over for the last half hour. Now if you´ll excuse me, I´m going to go find her. Not only because I´m worried, but because I can´t stand your ranting any longer."

"But you haven´t had any breakfast?"

"I´ll have some lunch later. I´ll be fine," called Harry over his retreating back.

The first place Harry thought to look was the library. It seemed most likely, as it was Hermione; anyone else and they probably would have just over slept. But just as he was rounding the corner after climbing the marble staircase, he bumped into a familiar figure.

"I´m so sorry," said the girl. "Oh, Harry, it´s you."

"Hey, Hermione. I was just looking for you." Harry got up and held out a hand for Hermione.

As he was helping her with her books, Harry asked, "Where have you been anyway? It´s not like you to be late for breakfast, or late for anything for that matter."

"Oh, I just over slept," she said, not quite making eye contact.

"Hermione Granger over slept?" Harry said mockingly. "Are you sure you´re feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I´m fine. Just couldn´t get to sleep last night. Had something on my mind." Still, she didn´t meet his gaze.

"Well, worrying about your problems won´t make them go away. Telling your friends about them so they can help you will make them go away. Trust me, I know from experience. Now what´s bothering you?"

"You´re in an extremely good mood today, Harry, considering you have your own problems to think about."

"Well..." he began.

"So why should I let you help me with my problems when you won´t let me help you with yours?"

"Well, that´s different," he said, suddenly feeling very guilty and unable to come up with a good excuse. It was true that he didn´t want Hermione to help him; he´d made that clear as soon as he´d first told her about his nightmares.

"I can look it up for you,"

he remembered her saying. "There must be a charm that could help, and we know there´s definitely a potion. It´s just a matter of finding out how you make it."

"Hermione, stop it. I have it under control."

"Yeah, because making yourself sick will really make it go away."

"Drop it would you? If I need your help, which I don´t, I´ll ask for it."

Harry had played that conversation through in his mind many times, and he still managed to convince himself that he could cope.

"But we need to get to Transfiguration," said Hermione in her oh-so-familiar bossy tone, "it´s going to start in a minute, and I don´t intend to be late." And with that, she walked off.

Following Hermione´s example, Harry also turned to go to Transfiguration. But he first had to make his way back to the now empty Great Hall. Fifteen minutes later, he turned up in Professor McGonagall´s lesson, meaning he was ten minutes late and received a glare from Hermione and a snigger from Ron. And from McGonagall...

"May I ask why you are late, Mr. Potter?" she said, looking over the top of her spectacles.

"Sorry, Professor, I was..." Harry began.

"I don´t want your excuses. Just sit down and make sure you don´t do it again. Five points from Gryffindor to make sure of it."

While Harry took his seat next to Ron, McGonagall went back to writing notes on the board about today´s topic, Portkeys. Harry started listening and taking notes, but about half way through the lesson he suddenly found it practically impossible to concentrate. It was like a switch had been turned off in his brain, meaning all he wanted to do was stare mindlessly out of the window. Which is what he did.

Unfortunately, McGonagall noticed this, and Harry was awoken from his trance by Ron poking him on the arm and pointing to the professor.

"So, what do you think?" she asked Harry, looking sternly at him.

"Think of what Professor?" he said, looking innocent and causing a few members of the class to giggle.

"Do you think you need to know your location to be able to produce a Portkey?"

This brought back a few painful memories for Harry, but McGonagall seemed not to notice.

"I don´t know," Harry replied meekly.

"Well then, you should listen." She looked searchingly at him for a few more seconds before turning to face the rest of the class. "Does anyone else care to share the answer with us?" and immediately Hermione´s hand shot up. "Yes, Miss Granger."

"No," she said in the know-it-all voice Harry had become so accustomed to, "because where the portkey is activated from, it doesn´t change the desired destination."

Well

, Harry thought, she would get it right, and continued to stare out of the window.

"Mr. Potter, will you pay attention!"

Ten minutes later and McGonagall had to awake Harry from yet another reverie.

"That´s the third time I´ve had to speak to you today and I´m getting fed up with it. Now please, get your act together." Indeed McGonagall did look particularly annoyed about Harry´s actions, or lack of them. So Harry just nodded, looked and felt very guilty, and blankly started trying to catch up with his notes.

By the end of the lesson, Harry had actually managed to copy all the notes, but he had no recollection of what he had written. And to top off his so far very bad day, McGonagall had just said, "Can Mr. Potter please stay behind at the end of the lesson," in a less than friendly voice.

Just as the rest of the class was leaving, Ron said to Harry, "Good luck, mate, you´re going to need it. She looks pretty hacked off with you." And indeed he was right. She didn´t look too happy when he went up to talk to her.

"Now, Mr. Potter," she began, "could you please tell me what this lesson was based on?"

"Um," Harry said, looking around the room as if it would give him the answer. "Probably not."

"I thought as much." McGonagall looked him straight in the eye, and made Harry feel as if she was looking straight through him. But there was a slight note of kindness that came out of her voice. "Now I know you must be under a lot of pressure, but not paying attention in class isn´t going to help. May I suggest that if something is bothering, you talk to someone about it? You know where we are."

This made Harry feel exceptionably guilty, because what she was saying was true. He already knew it in his heart, but his brain never seemed to want to accept it. What made Harry feel even worse was that she didn´t know half of what was going on.

"You don´t look too well either," she continued after a moment´s silence. "You should take a visit to the hospital wing." Harry nodded, picked up his bag and smiled briefly at his professor before leaving. But he had no intention of going to the hospital wing.