The Book Of Jude

Disclaimer: All characters and situations associated with the Harry Potter series belong to J. K. Rowling and the following companies, including, but not limited to, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringements were intended and no money is being made from this story--nope, no money at all. All other characters and original situations not brilliant enough to be the property of Ms. Rowling belong to this humble little scribe.

Author's Note: If you have read the author's notes to the previous chapters, you should be having no trouble at all in following this twisted little Alternate Universe. If you are still confused, please feel free to email me with your questions. I hope everyone is enjoying this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter Four: Easier Said Than Done

`All I need to make a comedy is a park, a policeman and a pretty girl' Charlie Chaplin

The day had dawned sunny and warm--warm for mid-February in England, at least--giving the town of Cambridge respite from the bitter cold and days of endless snow that it had witnessed since November. Rhys wanted to make the most of this opportune weather and, calling Darcy over to where he sat by the window in the small café, attached her lead to her collar.

"Want to go to the park, girl?" he asked the excited dog as he pulled his thick coat on over his sweater. As he and Darcy made their way to the park, Rhys could not help but think of Jude. He had noticed that she had seemed different as of late. No, she had been acting differently since he'd sung that song for her at The Mill. Had he scared her away? It didn't seem as if he had--she appeared to be pleased by the move on his part. Yet she had not made any attempt to reaffirm his feelings for her--and this was over six months ago.

At the end of the semester last year, he had made an attempt to show Jude, his best friend, that he was still enamored with her. He'd loved her from the moment he met her that morning he'd walked into his kitchen to find her making friends with his dog only to find out that they were to be flat mates. He was a bit defeated, he had to admit, when he'd asked Jude out on a date and was summarily refused. She had told him that she felt the same way about him, but that she could never act on those feelings. Her past was a barrier to their mutual happiness, and he somewhat resented her for not trusting him with her secrets. He couldn't blame her, however, for keeping her secrets to herself when he was keeping just as much, if not more, from her.

He knew that she loved him as much as he loved her--she had practically said as much to him. Yet he couldn't fight the feeling that there was a growing distance between them, and he felt responsible for that. He had probably pushed her too hard. She hadn't pushed him away yet, but it seemed that she was in a place that he couldn't follow. He wanted to tell her that nothing she could do or say would make him stop loving her. There wasn't even the remotest possibility of that happening.

"C'mon, Darce!" he yelled to his beloved hound as he released her leash. He took off down one of the various winding paths of the park. She bounded along at his side. He needed to run, to pound out his frustration on the frozen ground. He raced along the path fast, trying to outrun the thoughts that raced through his mind. At length, he had to give in to fatigue as the bitter cold air made it impossible for him to continue at that pace. Darcy paused at his side, ready for more excitement. He looked over at his dog--his one constant companion and beloved friend. She never failed to cheer him when he was down.

He made a swift movement to grab the dog, but she quickly maneuvered away from her owner. She settled into the snow with her front paws and head resting on the ground, leaving her tail end in the air. Rhys gathered a handful of snow and lobbed it in the hound' s direction. She snapped at the snowball as Rhys laughed at the spectacle. She raced in a circle around him, evading his grasp. After a short chase, he had managed to wrestle the dog to the ground, but he lost the upper hand and Darcy soon had him pinned in the snow, licking his face.

"Okay, I give Darcy. Let up." He put his hands over his face to impede the dog from further licking him. He shoved Darcy off of and struggled to his feet, brushing the powdery snow from his coat and pants.

"Darcy!" he heard a familiar voice call from a distance. Rhys looked up and saw his dog run to greet a woman walking toward him. It was Jude. She smiled and petted the dog as a reward for having come when she called. She looked up and smiled to Rhys as he walked over to where she was standing with Darcy.

"Hey, Adda told me that I would find you here," Jude said to Rhys who noticed her look away, rather awkwardly. He knew that she wasn't suddenly acting shy around him, but that she seemed like she wanted to tell him something, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Lately, it appeared as if she was trying to build up the courage to tell him something and had failed every time. He didn't want to prod her, but waiting for her to speak in her own time was infinitely frustrating, and he wondered if he would ever find out what had been bothering her for so long. Rhys shoved his hands in his pocket--it was getting colder outside.

"What do you say we go back to Adda's, Love? It's getting bloody cold out here." He smiled at her as he put Darcy's leash on her once again. As they walked down the street, Rhys put his arm around Jude, hugged her to him, and kissed her forehead. She smiled, which was a good sign, he thought. Something was not right between them, but all he could do was wait for her to tell him what was wrong and to be there for her until that time.

***

Jude loved the snow. She loved the cold--biting cold, cold that numbed the mind and body. As she walked back to the café with Rhys and Darcy, she breathed in deeply the stinging, frigid air and wished that it would freeze her mind to a blissful numbness. Dwelling on the thoughts that she was entertaining was not a good thing. She had been warring with her will and had lost every battle. She had been so close to spilling everything to Rhys several times, knowing that as soon as she told him, he would either abandon her or forgive her. But either way, she would have given up her unbearable burden and she would feel better. Carrying her secret with her, guarding it jealously, she had forged a gap between herself and the one person who mattered to her. Being near him, yet keeping her secret to herself hurt. She didn't want to hurt anymore and hoped the merciless cold would relieve this pain as it had in the past.

It had snowed heavily for the past three days. The school grounds were covered in over a meter of crystalline snow and frost, making the Hogwarts castle appear even more magical. The last class was mercifully over, yet the day was not. Jude navigated the cold stone passageways to her dorm room. Thankfully, the common room was deserted and she passed into the Second Year Girls' Dorm without interruption. She grabbed her heavy cloak and scarf off of the back of a chair and headed back out of the room.

As she made her way down a flight of marble stairs, she pulled the cloak on over her uniform woolen sweater and skirt. She wound the green and silver scarf around her neck, but took little care to make sure that it reached the fringe of her shortly bobbed blonde hair. She didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get away for a little while, until things calmed down--if they would calm down. She doubted they would. She thought she might go to Hagrid's and see Fang. Hagrid never asked too many questions.

Earlier that day, she had been careless. Whether or not from carelessness or simply from tiring of being on her guard all the time, Jude had let a secret slip--a big secret. Now, the entire student population hated her more than they had before--as if everyone's dislike was suddenly validated. In Potions class, she had been paired with Sabine MacDermod, her roommate. It was well known to all, including Jude, that Sabine hated her--it was a hobby, a passion of hers. One of Jude's biggest occupations was taking care not to give Sabine too much ammunition. She mainly tried to avoid her and her two friends and roommates, Adelaide Blake and Marah Talbot, who were partnered together near Jude and Sabine.

The assignment was to create a wakefulness potion. Jude had busied herself with chopping dried Mandrake leaves as Sabine stirred the boiling cauldron. Sabine had not done well in this class for months and had been paired by Professor Snape with Jude, who was by far his best student. Jude did not take this as a complement, but as punishment. Yet, she rolled up the sleeves of her robes and threw herself into the task at hand. As she was chopping the ingredient, she did not notice Sabine's eyes wander to the mark on Jude's left forearm. Sabine's lips curled in a cruel smile as recognition dawned on her. She knew what that ugly black brand meant, even if most of her classmates could only guess at its portent. She returned to a neutral expression and finished the assignment without betraying what she had discovered.

After lunch, Jude had realized that her shame was no longer a secret torment, and that, thanks to Sabine, the whole school knew of the mark. It took every ounce of fortitude she possessed to finish her last class. Thankfully, she hadn't met with much violence and had made it to her dorm room with only a few harsh words from the students in the halls.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she did not see the three boys blocking her path on the stairs. "So, it's true then." She heard an angry voice directed at her and her head snapped up to see who was talking. It was Caleb Williams, a Third Year Gryffindor, and two of his housemates. She stood rooted to the spot. She could not answer him--she was completely lost for words. He reached out and seized her left wrist with a quick motion. She barely struggled as he tugged the sleeve of her cloak up to reveal the angry mark that condemned her in his eyes. "You're one of them." He spat the words with contempt. Her eyes were wide with fear as he continued. "Do you know what they did? What you did?" He did not bother to hold back his rage. "They killed my parents. They killed my little sister--she was four years old!"

She couldn't breathe. She had not killed these people but she was guilty just the same--in Caleb's eyes and in her own. "I'm sorry." She managed to choke out the words, but they felt grossly inadequate.

The words seemed only to fan the boy's anger. He pulled her down the stairs by the arm he still held in an iron grip. She hit the cold floor hard. In an instant, he was on top of her, pounding her furiously with his fists, hitting his mark more often than he missed. She did not fight back. She didn't event throw her arms up to protect herself as the boy took his rage out on her. She felt she owed him this--she had been a party to the murder of his entire family, and he had the right to exact his revenge on her.

"What is going on here?" Jude heard Professor McGonagall's clipped voice question the gathered crowd harshly. She could feel Caleb being hauled off of her and someone pulling her to her feet. She saw Caleb, red-faced and seething, being restrained by Bill Weasley, the Prefect for Gryffindor House. Her own arm was in the tight grasp of Professor McGonagall. "Will someone please explain what this is all about?" Her sharp glance was leveled at Jude. The crowd remained silent. "Well?" she questioned, releasing Jude's arm and looking at Caleb, who simply stared daggers at Jude.

"It was my fault, Professor," she said, as she looked cautiously at the crowd. They all seemed to share Caleb's venomous hatred and the feeling of so many angry eyes on her became more oppressive by the second. She couldn't breathe. She had to get out of there. "I'm sorry." She quickly turned and pushed through the crowd, heading for the great oak doors as fast as her legs could carry her.

The cold air hit her face, stinging her eyes and nose, which she guessed was bleeding profusely. As she ran down the frosty steps leading up to the school, she lost her footing and stumbled, skinning her knees on the icy stone. Ignoring the pain, she regained her feet and headed off the path and into the deep snow. She didn't know where she was going, but she had to get away. Hagrid's cabin was not far enough from the crowd of angry people who hated Jude with every fiber of their being. Their shouts as Caleb had beaten her rang in her ears. Not far enough away.

She continued to run, but the open and snowy expanses of ground had been replaced by the frozen skeletons of trees placed so close together that the snow did not penetrate to the floor. As she continued to run, her lungs burned with the effort and the bitter cold air. The angry shouts had stopped and the pain in her face and knees was numbing to a dull throb as the chill seeped through her cloak. She stopped and looked around. The forest was silent and the afternoon sun was sinking in the west, making the last long shadows of the day. Soon it would be dark and even colder, but that did not frighten her. She could disappear in the dark and the cold would allow her to feel nothing--it was ideal, actually.

She looked down at her battered knees. The blood had soaked into the knee-high white socks that provided little warmth in the biting wind. She touched the wound with a frozen finger and was astonished not to feel anything. No pain. She turned her back to the light and continued into the forest.

She had lost recollection of the passage of time after the sun had cast its last feeble ray. It had been dark for sometime, and Jude was having trouble forcing her legs to obey her will. It was becoming difficult to walk without stumbling over roots rising from the frozen ground. Her hands hung lifelessly at her sides. Her vision was getting blurry and the howling wind in her ears had long ago drowned out any other noise or thought.

A while ago, she thought she heard someone shout her name--was it a while ago? She couldn't recall. She couldn't feel anything, not even the tree root that had knocked her feet out from under her and left her crumpled on the frozen ground. She willed herself to get up and to continue on, but her body refused to obey even the slightest command. With her cheek pressed to the frigid earth, the only movement her body allowed was the rise and fall of her chest with every ragged breath. She blinked her eyes--she even had to think to do that. "Oh well," she thought, "If this is what dying feels like, it's not so bad." A white puff descended as she exhaled a labored breath. She closed her eyes.

She could have sworn that she had heard it that time and it wasn't just the wind. She heard her name. Opening her eyes slowly, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the hard-frozen floor of the forest. "Am I imagining things?" she thought. Struggling, she tried to get to her feet but found that this was impossible. She thought she heard her name called again, this time closer than the last. She saw black shoes and the hem of a thick cloak standing next to her. She felt a warm finger brush her face and saw, or more accurately, sensed that this person carried the same burden as she did--the same mark--and he understood. Her eyes fought to stay open. She wanted to know if what she was seeing was real or just a cruel trick of her imagination. Vaguely, she felt someone lifting her from the cold ground as her vision swam and sunk into blackness.

***

Adda had given Jude the night off, although Jude had put up a pretty ruthless fight. She knew Adda was conspiring with Rhys, she just knew it. He was scheduled to play at The Anchor tonight, although he would only be playing until nine o'clock. He had agreed to fill in for an opening act that had canceled as a favor to the manager. Rhys had asked Jude to come, but she had declined, saying that Adda would need the extra help that night. Of course, he had then taken it upon himself to secure the night off for Jude--and to cut off all escape for her. Adda had insisted that she enjoy the night and assured her that she did not expect a sizeable crowd--she never did on Valentine's Day. "Everyone was out to dinner with their sweethearts," Adda would sigh wistfully.

Jude stood in front of the mirror in her small bathroom. She hated mirrors--she never liked what she saw. With sandy, rather mousy, blonde hair that she had kept in the same short bob since she could remember, and freckles dotting her rather plain face, she had no idea why Rhys was so captivated by her. It was easy to understand why she, and every other girl within a five-mile radius, was attracted to Rhys--he was gorgeous and perfect.

There was nothing about her that would have marked her as pretty, or even exceptional in any way. She was short, not tall like all those beautiful French and Italian models that graced the cover of every fashion magazine. Yet, Rhys loved her for apparently no reason at all.

"Just a sick twist of fate." She pulled on a sweater over her jeans and t-shirt. She refused to get dressed up for such a grossly inflated cliché as Valentine's Day. Rhys' expectations for them were already too high, without her making it worse by getting all dolled up. It wasn't fair that Rhys had to be in love with her--when it wasn't possible for her to be the kind of person that he deserved. As his best friend, she wanted to see him happy with someone who was honest and wouldn't hide things from him. And as a candidate, she didn't even pass her own test.

She could cope with the fact that she loved him but could not have him. It was only her heart that was at risk of being stomped on. She thought that letting him know that she was not available to him the second he showed any regard for her was the best plan. Yet it backfired--Rhys had not dated a girl since he met her. Had he seen her as some sort of challenge? No, she thought he couldn't be that petty and shallow. What was obvious, however, was that she was hurting him--she could see it every time she looked at him. He knew she had a secret--that much was certain. But he had no clue how wrong she was for him--how much the truth would hurt him more than the distance her silence created. She fingered the wide, silver band that encircled her left wrist. She knew she didn't deserve him. She sighed--he didn't know he deserved more.

She grabbed her coat and headed for the door, shouting a hasty farewell to Adda. Pulling her coat on, she walked swiftly down the street--Rhys was already twenty minutes into his first set and he would think that she was not coming--again. She wanted to be there--hell, she wanted to follow him around like a lost little puppy--but she had to restrain herself. If she showed him how much she actually wanted to be with him, it would only encourage his feelings for her. The catch was that Jude was a horrible actor.

The Anchor was a quaint little pub that was a little too popular for Jude's taste. Couples lined the stage, admirably dressed for the occasion. She contrasted sharply with the women dressed in satins and silks. She caught Rhys' eye from on stage as she took a seat at the bar, and his smile made her forget that, unlike the beautiful women surrounding her, she wore merely faded jeans and an old rugby sweater that belonged to him. This was going to be harder than she thought.

Rhys finished his last set with a little difficulty. His eyes, no matter how hard he fought the temptation, were drawn to Jude. She was magnetic--her every movement captivated his attention. He willed himself on and, miraculously, made it through the last song. With little ceremony, he introduced the featured artist--a no-talent, cheesy, lounge singer of a pianist who sang only love songs--badly, in Rhys' opinion. He walked over to the bar.

She beamed at him despite the warnings in her head. He leaned against the bar, pulled her glass toward himself and drained the last inch of liquid from the bottom. He squinted up at the stage--the guy was bloody awful--then turned to Jude and smiled. "Let's get out of here, Love." His suggestion met her approval and they headed for the door.

It had become colder outside as the night set in. She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and turned to look at Rhys.

"So, where are we headed?" she inquired, with a suspicious expression.

"Don't know. You hungry?"

She shook her head. "You?"

"No." He was glad neither of them wanted to retreat to a restaurant where the conversation would wander in every direction but the way he wanted. Jude seemed like she wanted to confide in him more than ever, and he was not about to deny her the opportunity to tell him what was separating her from him. Hell, he wasn't even sure he cared anymore--there couldn't possibly be anything that she could say to make him see her in any other light than that in which he saw her at this very moment. He loved her.

"You want to take a walk down to the park?" Her eyes met his and begged him to say yes. How could he ever say no to her? "Mood Indigo is supposed to be playing at the amphitheater. You know you can't refuse Jazz." She nudged him with her elbow.

"Sure." Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, they headed to the Midsummer Commons.

It had begun to lightly snow, but that had not forced the retreat of the glamorous couples into places warmer and drier. The band played a slow, melodious Miles Davis tune--a solo trumpet cutting clear notes into the crisp evening. The music beckoned them across a small lane to an open, snow-dusted expanse dotted with chairs and a polite audience collectively enraptured with the performance. Jude smiled up at Rhys as he took in the scene. She knew his passion was music--all types that showcased the true and genuine talent of those who created it.

"Would you like to dance?" She cut into his reverie, but it was not an unpleasant interruption. She took his hand and pulled him over to the edges of the audience. An elderly couple sat hand in hand in the very last row. Jude walked up to them and asked pardon for her interruption. Rhys had no clue what she was doing. However, this was not what he referred to as dancing.

"Excuse me, sir." The old man smiled up at her. "Would you do me the honor of granting me this dance? That is," she added, "if it's no trouble." He rose from his chair and, with a smile from his companion, he took her hand.

"It's no trouble at all, my dear." The old man beamed. "I'd be delighted." As they stepped elegantly over the frosted grass, Jude noticed that Rhys had gotten the hint. He and the elderly woman had joined suit. After a few moments of dancing--the old man was as graceful as Fred Astaire as they moved through the measures of the song--she felt a tap at her shoulder and turned to find the old woman asking to cut in. She acquiesced with pleasure and stepped back to watch the two glide effortlessly as if they knew how the other would move beforehand. She stood alone, watching the couple, but not for long. Rhys had come up behind her.

"She left me for another." Rhys pretended to fret over his lost partner. "A better dancer, and better looking."

Jude laughed and turned to Rhys. He took her hand and they followed the elderly couple's example and danced. He was right--the old man was a better dancer--yet, he moved smoothly without knowing the first thing about the steps. Others had joined the two couples and the grassy expanse had transformed into an open-air ballroom floor. The band played on as elegantly dressed couples glided about them. Rhys and Jude paused to admire their handiwork--it was like an amazing Busby Berkley film where all action was temporarily suspended and people broke into spontaneous waltzes.

The music effortlessly transitioned from the mild, blue tones of Davis to the classic, unforgettable hues of Sinatra's `The Way You Look Tonight.' Rhys held Jude closer as he hummed the tune. "Some day." He began to sing to her and, in the manner of Gene Kelley--however less elegant--he led her through spins and steps stolen from the silver screen. "When I'm awfully low, and the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight."

"Excuse me." Rhys turned at a tap on his shoulder. Jude turned as well to face the interruption. It was a police officer--not any that they'd recognize from the station, but maybe he was new. "I'm going to have to ask you two to leave. You're causing a disturbance." He frowned disapprovingly at the sight before him.

"We didn't mean to distract the band, officer. However, it appears to me that, since they are still playing and seem to be gratified by the dancing, I don't see how we've caused a disturbance." Rhys gave the Bobby his most innocent smile, but Jude noticed that the officer was not appeased.

"That gentleman in the front row complained to me just moments before." He indicated a stuffy man with an easily annoyed manner about him. He stared at Rhys and Jude contemptuously. "He said that the dancing was distracting him, and that you lot started the whole thing." The officer crossed his arms over his chest, granting himself an early victory.

"Officer," Jude replied impatiently to the wanker who'd just ruined one of the only perfect moments she'd ever had. "We didn't mean to disturb anyone, but clearly this man is the only one who seems to mind at all. I honestly don't see what all the fuss is about."

"I'm sorry, but I am going to have to ask you two to leave." The officer raised his voice. He was greeted by annoyed shushing from the sea of people. The elderly couple glared daggers at the officer who was dampening the mood of an enchanted evening.

"Could you keep your voice down, sonny?" The old man shot the officer a venomous glance. "We can't hear the music over your yammering."

The officer took the hint and retreated without the pleasure of escorting the offenders off the premises. Jude laughed as the officer walked away in defeat. She was a bit surprised at the lengths people would go to in order to ruin a perfectly marvelous moment.

The song ended and the people applauded the band. Jude and Rhys availed themselves of this moment to slip away into the starlit shadows of the park. Rhys took her left hand, wrapping it in both of his and raising her fingers to his lips, kissed it gently. She was conscious of the weight of the silver band encircling her wrist only for a moment before he spoke.

"Jude, I know that you've been wanting to tell me something for a while now." Her eyes broke his gaze and she lowered her head in guilty acknowledgement. "And that something is what has been keeping us from being happy." He searched for her eyes for a moment as she attempted to avoid his stare, but finally managed to lock his eyes with hers. "I just want to let you know that what ever it is, whatever you are afraid of saying, it's not enough." She looked puzzled and astonished. "It's not enough to make me forget how I feel about you. I love you, Jude. You know that and I know that you love me, too. So, whatever it is, I don't want to know--you don't have to tell me if that is what you want."

His words were completely unbelievable. Was he telling her that it didn't matter who or what she had been, that he didn't even care to know? Whatever secret she was hiding wasn't enough to push him away. She found herself hoping that this was not her imagination telling her what she wanted to hear. No, this was real--he was real, and his words were real. "You deserve more than this, Rhys. You deserve..."

"What I want?" he interrupted her and rested his curly brown head, now lightly speckled with snowflakes, against her cool forehead. "I want you," he whispered, relieved to see a reluctant smile flicker across her face.

"Are you sure?" Her voice sounded doubtful, but she sincerely wanted to believe him.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life--and for me, that's saying something." He grinned and wrapped his arms around her as she laughed. He loved it when she laughed.

The distant music reached them on the night air. Rhys bent his head to hers and kissed her gently. It was easier said than done--keeping her distance from the only person that she had ever truly loved, that is. "Oh, to hell with it," she thought, feeling her resolve shatter, "I'll allow myself this one happiness for as long as it lasts."