Perfection

Perfection

Chapter 22: Respite

This is holy war!

We must fight and fight again

And go a thousand times for the sake of love

But never once in vain

~Duncan, Sarah Slean

Light was beginning to slant through the bedroom window, pulling Ginny gradually from sleep. Her left side was abnormally warm, especially considering that she was still lying on top of the blankets.

Funny, she didn't remember going to bed...

Opening her eyes fully, she became aware of Draco lying next to her, still fast asleep. In this lighting, his blond hair glittered, halo-like, on top of a too-pale face accented with dark circles under his eyes, making Ginny feel a tug at her heartstrings. She kept herself still as another wave of relief swept over her with the understanding that he was once again a part of her life.

Of course, a rather large part of her argued, he had always remained in her life. She had just chosen to try to ignore him.

*

Setting up a television in a house that had never seen an electrical outlet was proving to be an interesting process, Hermione mused silently, watching as Arthur Weasley argued excitedly with his sons over the best way to go about installing it.

"Dad, you can just make it work with magic. You don't need to have an electrical system," George was saying exasperatedly.

"Some of us call it the 'magical advantage,'" Fred added. "You can order it in packages starting at ten galleons, but if you want us to throw in a bonus trip to Zimbabwe, it's still only thirteen galleons and three sickles."

As if on cue, the twins paused and looked at each other.

"Hey, that's a good idea--"

"Maybe we should do a promotion or something..."

"I need to write this down!"

She giggled and raised her eyebrows at her mother as George sprinted from the room, overcome with marketing genius.

"Arthur, they do have a point," Molly remarked wryly.

"No, I'm going to do this properly or not at all."

A few more minutes of painful struggling ensued, before Arthur stepped away gloatingly. "Ecklectricity!" he announced, flinching away from the sparks shooting out of the wall.

"Oh, for the love of..." Molly mumbled, keeping her wand where her husband couldn't see it and turning the television on.

"Wonderful," Agrippa commented, a touch of dryness in her tone.

"The things we go through for Audrey Hepburn," her daughter responded, keeping her face straight. "Shall we watch now or save it for tonight?"

*

Helena sat calmly inside the flat that she had rented out, listening to the echoing of chaos below her as she twirled her wand idly in her hand, adjusting the fall of burgundy robes. She didn't feel afraid--it didn't seem to be worthwhile.

She could sense the darkness that was snaking its way outwards, away from the castle, from Hogsmeade, choking off thoughts as dementors did emotions. It was so strong that if she closed her eyes it was almost visible, almost strong enough to be considered a stench. Standing, she removed the pins from her hair, letting it tumble down in silver ribbons as it released an energy that was all its own, and moved towards the door, so engrossed in the power thrumming through her veins that she didn't notice the barn owl that had swooped in, bearing a letter written in an all-too-familiar scrawl.

*

Except for the sounds of conversation coming from the television, there was silence. Ginny sincerely doubted that this had occurred previously, given that there were nearly twenty people spread throughout the room, a high concentration of them Weasleys, but it was a nice feeling. It was as though a temporary closeness had descended the room and, although Ginny wasn't sure that she fully understood the plot of the film, there was a sort of bittersweet understanding in the air.

She shivered slightly and Draco pressed closer to her, even though they weren't even holding hands. There was more between them now than there had been before, but somehow the time apart had served to consolidate what had existed rather than force them to forge something new entirely.

Across the room, she noticed that Snape was absently toying with strands of Hermione's hair, who had her back resting against his shoulder. The simple fact that this only earned a few startled glances and little else spoke volumes--although whether it was due to respect for the other girl's decisions or a resigned acceptance was difficult to say. Ginny felt a brief stab of pity for Hermione's mother--the whole situation was probably more awkward for her than anyone else--but pushed it aside and pulled her attention back to the film, where Holly Golightly was strumming a guitar on her windowsill.

*

The constant darkness had begun to take on a pattern of day and night to Neville. Although he in all truthfulness had no idea what the time was, he liked to pretend that he could see when the was sun rising and setting in a semblance of uniformity--it was far easier than considering the option that the outside world had ceased to exist except inside of his mind. By his measure, six and a quarter days had passed since they had first descended into the underground labyrinth. Six and a quarter days of darkness.

Six and a quarter days of hell.

He had gone through the alphabet fifteen times now, reciting different plant names each time until he was nearly out of them. Those that he had not used yet, he kept coveted in his mental garden, saving them for the moment when they would be most needed.

"Do you mind if I bother you for a bit?"

The voice jerked Neville out of his reverie, although not unpleasantly, and he blinked for a moment at the tiny, pixie-like girl who was in the process of sitting down next to him.

He shook his head. "No. I should warn you, though, I'm not very interesting."

She laughed in response. "That's all right with me. I'm just getting bloody sick of textbooks."

"You're in my Herbology class, right?" he asked. "Ravenclaw?"

"Yes to both. Thank god you recognize me--I really hate explaining to people that I'm actually not twelve years old."

It was his turn to laugh as he studied her more closely and realised that she did look much younger than she was--standing, she would probably only come to his shoulder and her face was the kind that could be anywhere between ten and twenty years old. She certainly wasn't pretty by most standards, but he found himself intrigued by the contrast of black hair against white skin and oddly piercing blue eyes.

"Fun crowd?" he asked, gesturing towards the huddle of Ravenclaws who appeared to have given up on reading their books and were now using them as pillows.

"Yeah. I tried to explain that osmosis only works with water, but I think they're too desperate to care."

"What are they looking for?"

She shrugged. "What are any of us looking for? I mean, on some level, I think that they know the best way to defeat You-Know-Who isn't going to be in a NEWT text. It's just comforting, I guess, to have something there."

Like his plants. Neville nodded, understanding. "Don't you have anything like that?"

She shrugged with a bit of a dry laugh. "Not really. I have me, whatever that means, and I know that if I die--down here or up there, it really doesn't matter--it won't be because someone has taken that away from me. I'm Liv, by the way--not sure if you knew that."

He shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm not the best with names. I'm Neville."

"Yeah, I know."

There was a brief, awkward pause, before she broke it with, "So what's your plan?"

"My plan?" Neville wasn't entirely certain what she was talking about--the only idea fixed in his head at the moment was staying alive as long as humanly possible.

"Everyone's making them," she remarked, arching her eyebrows. "You know, to get out of here."

"Well, that's easy enough. Just take the stairs," came his quick reply. He had never been one for sarcasm, although he was rapidly beginning to understand its merit.

"Out of here alive is the goal," she shot back, looking mildly amused. "And since you seem to be the only one down here besides me who has kept his sanity, I thought you might have some ideas."

His mouth twisted into something resembling a wry smile. "Honestly? I've been sitting here reciting plant names to myself. I don't know if most people would consider that sane."

"Well, you aren't hallucinating or vegetative yet, so it's good enough for me."

*

Midway through the movie, Agrippa found herself feeling as though someone had dumped a cement mixer on her. It wasn't that the story had lost its power over her, or that the film wasn't quite the way she recalled it--she was rapidly discovering that it had remained exactly the same. Something, though, was unsettling.

Maybe it wasn't actually the movie itself that was having this effect on her; around her, everyone in the room seemed to be paired off--lovers, husbands, wives... It struck her that the only person in the room aside from her daughter with whom she had any real connection was Remus, a frightening thought on its own. She wasn't quite ready to consider the possibility that she would die alone, with only gay men in her life and a rather large cat collection.

Feeling fidgety, she uncoiled from her seat in an armchair and slipped behind everyone else into the hallway, where she proceeded to make her way into the kitchen. The light was visible before she entered, but there was still an element of surprise when she saw Charlie Weasley already sitting at the table, head in his hands and clearly immersed in his thoughts. Clearing her throat to give him warning, she gave him a bit of a smile and poured herself a glass of water. He jerked around to look at her, hastily wiping suspiciously red eyes.

"Is everything all right?" Agrippa sat down opposite him, cradling her glass in both hands.

He shrugged, a tad defensively. "Sure. Why not?"

Her mouth curled into a wry grin. "If you say so."

The sat in mute, awkward silence for a few minutes, before she pushed back her chair in a motion to leave. "I'm sorry. I can leave you alone if you want."

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. You're Hermione's mum, right?"

"Yes."

"She's a good kid."

Agrippa laughed. "And one who has no hesitation in reminding me that she's no longer a 'kid' and will do whatever she damn well pleases."

His face relaxed into a smile at this. "I think I'm more one her side for this one."

"Understandably."

"It takes a lot of courage to be open with your parents," he added as an afterthought.

She was about to open her mouth to agree, when Remus stepped into the room. "Sorry. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Both of them shook their heads. "Sit down," Agrippa offered.

"It's all right. I just wanted to make sure you were all right--you left a bit suddenly."

She laughed. "Kind of you to double check. Now, sit down. Please. Or do I need to go find the whiskey to convince you?"

Rolling his eyes, Remus sat down next to her. "Of the two of us, I think you have the slightly more alcoholic tendencies."

"Maybe I should move back here," Charlie mused. "Apparently I'm missing out."

"Because watching two middle-aged, very lonely people get hammered was high on my list of things to do on Saturday night when I was your age," Agrippa remarked dryly.

"I am not old enough to be considered middle-aged," Remus protested vehemently.

"Yet," she shot back vindictively. "It's only a matter of time."

"So back to that idea of whiskey," Charlie cut in. "I'm going to go find some."

"Bloody pacifist," Agrippa snarled, waiting until he was out of earshot to add, "You'll be glad to hear that he likes men."

"What?"

"He told me so."

Remus rolled his eyes. "If that's the case, you have a remarkable gift of forcing confessions."

"Well, I got you to tell me, Mr. Permanently-Closeted-I-Swear-I'm-Only-Bisexual-But I've-Never-Looked-At-A-Woman. At any rate, he didn't say it directly, but he would have if you hadn't barged in at the completely wrong moment."

"What wrong moment?"

Charlie's whiskey-clutching return caused both of their jaws to clench together almost instinctively. Agrippa wasn't sure exactly how much he had heard, but apparently none of it bothered him.

"Er... I'm just telling him about the time I walked in on my husband in bed with another woman." She winced inwardly. Of all the things she could have invented, she had to pick something painfully true.

"Oh... I'm sorry."

Her mouth twisted. "Well, it's been almost a year. I'm over it."

She had a brief flash of thought regarding what she would do to commemorate the one-year anniversary of throwing Steve out. Oddly enough, she doubted that she would be miserable.

*

Hermione felt herself retreating inwardly from Severus as the movie pulled her into its conclusion. She wasn't ready for the thoughts that she knew were inevitable, wasn't ready to consider the possibility that she felt more strongly than he did. This was the kind of film where she should be able to lean into him and whisper something romantic or even just give him a kiss on the cheek. Anything, even just a subtle acknowledgement would do...

Darting a glance at him, she wished that she had kept her eyes averted. His stare was stony and focused on what was directly in front of him, emotionless and empty. It was a stare with the emptiness that had the power to erase everything that the last year had worked to achieve, leaving her a little bit afraid of him for the first time in months.

As if sensing her recoil, he shifted his hand so that it was covering hers and turned so that they were facing one another, giving her a clear view into his thoughts. Instantly, she felt ashamed at the mixture of emotions that she found there. So many things--fear, uncertainty, and several that she couldn't put a name to, but wrenched at her gut all the same.

Say it, a voice screamed in the back of her head but she was frozen, partly in terror and partly out of a desire to avoid him having to carry the added burden that would inevitably follow. Instead, she slid herself closer, burrowing in the crook of his arm as her head rested on his shoulder, and allowed herself to close her eyes against the startled looks that she could feel being directed at her.

*

The gap between Christmas and New Year's passed at an alarming rate. However, to Severus, the fact that it had sped by with no contact from anyone from Hogwarts or Hogsmeade was just as frightening. His only comfort was the lack of comment from the media--surely that meant that nothing had taken place out of the ordinary.

He knew that he was procrastinating, but the delicious freedom of the holidays had taken its hold on him and, if he could have his way, he would spend the remaining two days locked in his bedroom with only Hermione for company.

Unfortunately, in spite of the large degree of forbearance on behalf of the house's other inhabitants, that was unlikely to be permitted. Rather than dwell on it, however, he moved his thoughts onward to his plans for that evening, which, among other things, first would require a shower.

*

Ginny was lying on her bed, watching in vague amusement as Hermione fussed over her hair.

"If he doesn't mind the way it is naturally, then he definitely will appreciate what you've already done with it," she commented dryly, laughing at the glare that was shot in her direction.

"That was precisely the comforting comment I was looking for."

Truth be told, Ginny was more than glad that there was no chance Hermione would be returning to their room tonight. Happy as she was with her reunion with Draco, there were still other tensions to be dealt with, other issues taking place within her. The wolf was practically screaming to be let out, after almost two weeks of being caged, which was resulting in a screaming headache and occasional loss of control--only last night, she had awoken to find herself coated in a thin layer of fur and it had taken far more concentration that she would have liked to change herself back. Her fear that something was wrong had returned tenfold then, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to consider the problem logically until she had managed to clear her head.

The other tiny conundrum that she was being faced with was that of Harry. She had avoided questions by having him remain primarily out of sight, except for meals and other mandatory gatherings, but she was beginning to feel that her hold over the Imperius Curse was weakening, something that confused her beyond words--every time that she had removed it from Harry as a test, he had appeared to be in the same mindless state as before. The idea that her magical control was declining terrified her more than anything else and she was beginning to worry that it was linked to the wolf.

How or why, she wasn't sure and she was planning on asking Hermione, just not right now. Tonight, she decided, Hermione needed to be able to be completely happy--she knew as well as anyone else that this peaceful reprieve from fear was growing shorter by the second and worrying wasn't going to improve the situation.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to research her problem when they returned to school. Two days was a small enough sacrifice. For now, she would just have to give in to her lupine urges and hope that it would temporarily solve the problem.

*

"Do you know what day it is?"

Liv was idly flipping through the pages of a back issue of Witch Weekly, rolling her eyes at the sex advice column as Neville doodled in the margins of her Herbology textbook.

"No," he replied. "I've lost track."

"New Year's Eve. Maybe it means something will happen."

He snorted harshly. "I'm starting to forget that there is a world outside of this."

"Don't," she cautioned, then announced, tossing her magazine aside, "So 'Mary O.' is clearly a man with the same knowledge of the female anatomy as any forty-five year old virginal male."

He made a neutral noise in the back of his throat.

"Not only does 'she' insist on calling a girl's period her 'moontime,' but the phrase 'inserting the man's rather engorged member into her succulent, nubile being' is a dead giveaway. It's like reading what my mother describes as literature, except much more lacking in description. Thankfully."

A violent laugh erupted suddenly from him, startling the others scattered throughout the room. Somehow, this made the situation's hilarity increase, and he had to roll onto his side to ease the stitch forming.

"I didn't think I was that funny," she remarked wryly. "And you might want to tone it down--you're frightening the children. Anyway, I honestly think we should work on figuring out a way out of here."

"We've been over this how many times in the last few days? It doesn't look like they're getting in here, but we aren't going to get out either."

"So what are we going to do? Just sit in here and wait until we starve to death?"

In the brief time since she had introduced herself, Neville had not seen her loose her temper, and they had discussed this very topic several times.

"You were the one who said you were okay with dying!" he snapped back.

Her eyes crackled with a rage that she didn't bother trying to suppress. "Not with dying for no reason. Which is what staying down here will result in, if we don't try something soon. Somehow I doubt that the people who are supposedly on our side are coming and rescuing us any time soon--you don't hear any fighting upstairs, do you?"

He sighed heavily. "But there is nothing that we can do. We've gone through every possible option and so far, nothing would work."

She bit her lip, pulling her hair hastily back into a ponytail. "I know. I just--I need something to keep me sane, you know? As long as I can keep focused, I'll be okay. I know I will."

"I've been reciting plant names in my head alphabetically," he suggested weakly, doubting that it would be of any use. In response, however, her face lit up and she grinned at him broadly.

"I've got it."

"What, another plant name that starts with the letter 's'?"

"No, a way to fight them. It's just an idea, but... You're good at Herbology, right?"

He nodded slowly.

"Good in an 'I stayed up all night studying' way or do you understand plants?"

"Well, I've never studied all night," he said by way of reply.

"Great. I knew that I'd need you."

"For what?"

*

Of all the things Hermione had expecting tonight, this was certainly not high on the list. She had taken Severus' shiftiness in the last few days to mean that he had forgotten to plan anything, but, judging by the secluded restaurant that he had uncovered in Muggle London--his rather odd comments about her clothing yesterday suddenly made sense--the case was quite different.

"Remember Leipzig?" she asked, taking a sip of water and basking in the candlelight as they waited for their drinks to come.

"No. Not at all," came the sharp reply, but the edges of his voice were tinged with humour.

She grinned at him. "Oh, that's how it is, is it?"

"It most certainly is."

"I can't believe it's been almost half a year," she sighed, feeling suddenly nostalgic. "And a year since last Christmas."

"Well, generally a year passes between each Christmas holiday," he pointed out dryly.

A giggle broke free. "You know perfectly well what I mean. It's been about a year since I discovered that you were actually human."

"Don't presume to know all of my secrets, my dear."

"Oh, I don't," she shot back loftily. "I know your ticklish places and, for now, that will be enough."

His mock-glare made her laugh harder, gaining the attention of the waiter, who promptly made his way over.

*

"I feel sick..." Ron moaned, collapsing next to his sister, who was eying the margarita that had been mixed for her by George with uncertainty. She hadn't had time to change before being dragged upstairs by her three youngest brothers, who were bearing all of the alcohol that they had managed to smuggle past Mrs Weasley's watchful gaze, and was doubtful that she would be able to maintain the level of control that was required.

"That's why normal people don't drink that much tequila at once," she replied acidly, watching as Draco let himself be talked into a drinking game with her twin brothers.

"Are you having that?" He gestured towards her drink, making Ginny roll her eyes.

"No, go ahead. But if you get alcohol poisoning, don't blame me."

She stood, making a motion to leave the room. "I'll be back right away. I just need to check on something."

Slipping past the party of adults downstairs was almost ridiculously easy. For a moment, she hung in the doorway to the sitting room, almost pitying the way that they threw themselves into the punch bowl, yet understanding the need for escape. Wasn't that what she was going outside to do after all?

Sadly, she realised with insight that surprised her that their lives had been marked by war, that even if they survived this one, there was no future for those that had devoted their lives to fighting for what they believed to be right. There would be sideline ministry jobs, like that of her father, and commemorations, but they would be empty gestures--after a lifetime of uncertainty, the tendency towards fear could not be erased and vitality could not be restored. They would be left with nothing.

Shaking her head, she slunk away, entering the freezing air of the backyard and tilting her head back to study the half moon that hung above her. The wolf was pressing close to the human inside of her mind, taking control with more ease than she was accustomed to, as clothes fell away from her body, giving way to fur as her eyes closed. Within seconds, her wolf-self was disentangling from the clothing and romping through the snow that coated the ground, oblivious to the cold in her eagerness to forget humanity.

After a while, she became aware of someone hovering just inside the doorway and her ears perked up. His scent was familiar and once the wolf placed it, it sent her hurtling back into human form.

Crouching naked in the snow, her red hair glaring against its whiteness, Ginny glared at Draco.

"What?"

Shrugging, he stepped outside and offered her his jacket. "I just wanted to come see where you went."

His speech was slightly slurred and she couldn't help but notice the way he swayed as she wrapped his coat around herself.

"Well, I'm here."

A smile carved itself onto his features as he looked at her with a frankness that she was unaccustomed to. "If I asked you, would you give me the ability to do that?"

"Ability to do what?"

"That thing you do. The wolf thing. I want to try it."

"No you don't," she replied firmly. "You're drunk and don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do. Unlike your idiot of a brother, I can hold my liquor."

Picking up the clothing that she had shed and rolling it into a ball, she put her arm around his shoulder and led him back into the house.

"Of course you can. But I still won't do it."

"Why not?"

Let me think, Draco, she wanted to say. Because nobody in their right mind would want this. I didn't at first, even though now it's my escape, but it would be easy to argue that I'm not quite sane.

"Because I don't want you to have to turn into what I've turned into," she told him instead, after a long silence.

"Fur every once in a while is livable," he replied, stumbling over the stairs. "At least it isn't fake--that's tacky."

"That's not what I meant."

But he either chose to ignore that comment or was too drunk to hear her properly.

*

The hotel room that Severus had booked was in a building in the same area as the one that they had stayed in last year, but this one had much better furnishings and wasn't filled with memories that Hermione wasn't sure were good or bad. From her stance near the window, she could see street lights stretching out beneath them, flickering and mingling with those of cars. She became aware of hands running down her sides and Severus' form pressing into her back as he kissed her neck and sent tingling sensations shooting through her. A part of her wanted to stay here forever, entangled in this moment of fairytale-like bliss, but uncertainty pushed at the edge of her mind, distracting her and pulling her out of it.

"Stop."

It came out harsher than she had meant it to, as the startled look on his face plainly stated.

"I'm sorry... I just... I want to know where this came from."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Where what came from?"

"This... Tonight. Dinner. The hotel."

"Don't you like it?" Something slid over his eyes that was cold and defensive.

"Of course I do," she sighed, and it was the truth. "I'm a little confused, is all. I don't understand where this is coming from or what it means or what's going on or anything."

A little bit of the hardness slipped from his gaze, leaving him looking more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. "I'm not sure. There just isn't... There isn't enough time to spend with you--just you--and I am beginning to fear that there will never be. One or both of us could possibly not survive the next few months--don't shake your head. You know it's true. And I suppose that, in the event that that happens, I want us to have a least one moment to look back on..."

She bit her lip, helpless to the fact that he was shaking as he spoke and attempting to calm himself by sucking in deep breaths.

"I can't think of a second that I regret having spent the way we did," she replied finally, hoping to soothe him, not sure whether to be heartbroken or overjoyed over his confessions.

"I've been positively cruel where you are concerned," he replied with a slight stammer, anger and self-loathing filling his voice. "I-I should have told you this months ago, but I didn't. I was afraid that I would lose you, frighten you off, so I held my tongue when I shouldn't have."

She couldn't deny her moments of uncertainty, not when he was glaring at her with such rabid honesty, so she settled for merely shaking her head rather than responding.

Turning his back on her, his shoulders began to shake with the force of silent sobs that she could tell he was trying to suppress. Overcome, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting him bury his head in her hair.

"It's all right," she whispered. "I'm here. Whatever happens will happen whether we want it to or not, we just need to believe that we'll be okay."

He lifted his head and stared directly into her eyes, the sight of his tearstained face making a lump form in her throat.

"Do you truly believe that?"

Calmly, she said, "I have to believe it. It's the only thing keeping me sane."

The fierceness of his mouth on hers a moment later caught her off guard and sent her spiraling into a place where she could forget about what awaited them upon the end of Christmas Holidays.

*

Exiting the Hogwarts express was like entering another world. Visibly, nothing had changed, but everyone was frighteningly aware of the silence that had descended over the town. People were mulling through the streets around the station, silent and almost shell-like and there was a scent in the air that Ginny could pick up if she concentrated hard enough that was like the remnants of fear.

Turning to Draco, she hissed, "Something is wrong here."

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he replied, "But we would have heard..."

"Maybe not." In a inhumanly fast motion she grabbed the nearest person passing by them, examining his almost completely blank face with a sort of desperation. "How do we find the castle?" she barked out at him, but he simply shrugged and pulled away with strength that she wouldn't have expected him to possess.

"What is it?" Draco asked, alarmed.

"It's like Harry," she muttered.

"What?"

"Imperius," she told him, eyes widening with horror. "The entire town is under the Imperius Curse."

"You've got to be joking."

A cold smile spread across her face. "You know me well enough to tell that I'm not. I can smell it, just like I can smell their fear still from whenever this happened."

"That's kind of creepy," he mused. "Does that mean that you can tell when I haven't showered for a few days?"

She glared at him. "Everyone can. And this is serious. We've pretty much just strolled into a giant trap that's going to kill us all."

The last words carried a bit more than she wanted them to, attracting the attention of a group of third years that were coming off of the train. Horror spread across their faces and one of them tried to sprint back onto the train and the others held her back, whispering amongst themselves and repeating it to other people who hadn't quite heard what she had said.

"And on top of that, we have a train full of idiot children to take care of," Draco added helpfully.