Over My Head

Chapter 12: Divinity of Hell

"Divinity of hell!

When devils will the blackest sins put on,

They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,

As I do now."

-Iago from Othello, by Shakespeare

"You're wondering how I got this thing on my face, aren't you Harry?" I called from my position behind a rock.

"I was curious," he replied rather miserably from the middle of an open field. He didn't want to play, so he was sulking like a child. I was teasing him like a child as well. We were nothing but children.

"Shelomari demon with his nasty shaft. Poison. Would have killed me if I weren't...me."

"You?"

"Yep. I'm special." I peaked out at him from my hiding place for a moment and saw that he had pulled a single blade of grass out of the ground and was twisting it around so that his fingers had gone all green.

"How're you special?" He said it conversationally, as if we weren't usually horrible to each other. I had to smile.

"I might tell you one day, if I feel like it. Right now I don't. Besides, who knows whom you might tell? No, no, I just couldn't have you blabbering."

"Me? Blabbering? Ugh, it's not worth it. Never mind." He paused thoughtfully, I'm sure mulling over whether it was even worth it to continue talking to me. "You sound more and more like Malfoy everyday."

"Maybe that's how you see it. But maybe really, he sounds more and more like me."

"You never used to be spiteful." He was probably going to say mean, but found that spiteful sounded more grown up.

"Not outwardly, no. Anyway, it was inevitable. The sounding similar. We're around each other an awful lot."

There was a pause before he continued. "Do you...er...are you...you know...."

"Am I dating him?" I wondered if Harry could hear my smile of incredulity.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"No. He's said multiple times that he would like to, but I'm...I'm not interested." I wished suddenly that I had not adopted Harry's pauses in speech.

"Oh."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while.

"So..." I started. "How're things with you and Voldemort?"

"What?"

"You know, with your burgeoning relationship and everything. How's the burgeoning?"

"You're insane. You're completely insane."

"Probably. You like?"

He considered it for a moment.

"Eh, not bad."

"You know we're being watched, right?" I pulled out my knife, the one I killed my first monster with. I began to look at it, turn it over in my hands. It was a pretty knife.

"Oh. I guess I didn't know really, but that makes sense."

"So even if you don't want to play today, they're going to make you tomorrow." I pulled out a pack of cigarettes as well and lit one. Such a pretty knife.

"Yeah."

"Hmm." Something was coming to me, and I couldn't explain it, or control it to great effect. All I could do was make it come out as more of a mumble than a speech. "What's he then, that says I play the villain, when this advice is free I give and honest, probal to thinking, and indeed the course to win the Moor again?"

"What?" Harry had looked up from his grass and was staring at my rock in confused interest.

"For 'tis most easy th' inclining Desdemona to subdue in any honest suit. She's framed as fruitful as the free elements."

"Ginny? What are you talking about?"

"How am I then a villain to counsel Cassio to this parallel course directly to his good?"

"What?"

"Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, they do suggest at first with heavenly shows, as I do now." I stopped, took a breath.

"What the hell was that?"

"Erm...Othello. Yeah, that would be Othello."

"What? Why?"

"I really don't know."

"What? How can you not know?"

"Like this! I don't know why that happened, but I had no control over it! It just...came to me. Dear god, I've finally lost it. I'm insane."

"Just caught on, have you?"

"Erm..." I was silent for a full minute, waiting for it to make sense, before continuing. "Lupin doesn't want to be here."

"What?"

"He hates watching us. We haven't even started yet, and already he hates it." I breathed deeply through my cigarette. "And he really wants me to stop smoking. And now he's wondering when I started."

"Why are you saying this?"

"Because it came to me. I think I'm channeling. And I think Remus was being ominous by thinking about Othello. Fuck."

"What?"

"You think you're confused, Potter? I haven't the faintest clue what I am doing. At least you're still in control of your own bloody actions." I looked down at my knife. How odd that something created for evil deeds was so intricate, almost delicately designed. Death in a pretty package.

And then I realized that's what Remus meant by the little speech he knew I'd say. He was telling me, warning me, in as indirect a way as he could, of what was coming. And he wanted me to warn Harry.

I walked out from my rock and over to Harry, sitting down right in front of him.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi," I answered. I couldn't find the right words to start, so I just smoked for a minute.

"It was...er...it was nice to talk to you today. I haven't talked to you in a while, and it was nice. Mostly because you were nice. For once."

"I know it was. Today was easy. Tomorrow won't be." I took a deep breath. I was doing Remus's dirty work, just like I had done Harry's. Just like it had annoyed the crap out of me to do Harry's. But for some reason, instead of annoying me, I could feel it becoming my own. Like a responsibility he was letting me inherit. "I have to warn you about what's coming."

"I know about the war."

"Not the war. This. Today was easy. Tomorrow won't be."

"You said that."

"You couldn't fight me today, and you won't be able to tomorrow either. So I have to make you. I'm just warning you that hatred won't begin to describe it. And it'll only get worse. We're children out to play, and our games are killing games. I'm only nice to you today because we're not playing yet. Don't worry; you're not supposed to understand just yet."

"That's good."

"But you will. And you'll wish you didn't. Just a warning, not that you can get out of it at all. You know, just doing my job."

"I see."

"So. Tomorrow then." I got up and took one last look at the room before I left. It had been turned into something like a field surrounded by several large rocks, but tomorrow it would be different. Remus had told me that everyday it would look like something else.

***

I was in my room, getting ready for later when Hermione walked in. I decided to ignore her, let her stand in my doorway all night if she wanted. I didn't want to deal with it at the moment. She waited until I was dressed once more to speak.

"Ginny, I want you to know...it didn't mean anything."

I sighed, staring down at my desk. "It did to me."

"I-I didn't mean-I meant Harry. Harry didn't-"

"You're still with him, right?" She didn't respond. "So how could he not have meant anything? How can you say that?"

"I just-"

"Please. Please stop. Please go."

She paused only momentarily. "Alright." And was gone.

I moved over to stare out at the window and put out my millionth cigarette of the day. Addictive little buggers. The grounds were beautiful at night. Funny that I hadn't noticed it in such a long time. Funny that I was thinking I wouldn't see them anymore when the war was over. Funny that I wouldn't ever see anything again, or hear anything, or feel anything, or...have eggs, or yawn, or brush my hair...not that I ever spent an inordinate amount of time doing these things anyway...

So of course, I had decided to go to Hogsmeade late into the night with Slytherins. It seemed only natural. And, of course, I'd taken up smoking too. Because, after all, it didn't matter if I was going to die in a few months anyway.

The grounds were beautiful, with the moonlight casting shadows and playing with images that made you forget things. It was distraction, wonderful distraction, and that was all anything was. Because I was merely waiting for death. Just like everyone else. Except I had a little less time, and that made me think about it.

I didn't bother with a cloak, just walked down through the common room, ignoring the stares of other students questioning why I would go out so late. Down to the front hall, out onto the grounds, where Draco stood waiting. We walked all the way to the bar without saying anything, with only his occasional glimpse at my face.

We were greeted with far too much noise. Blaise and some others I didn't care to name were already there, most of them drunk as hell and with a tendency to grab in unnecessary places.

"Give me things for drinking," I whispered to Draco, grabbing onto his arm to avoid being pulled away by the crowd.

"We're going to a table in the back," he whispered back. "It's quieter there."

"A special table?"

"It's reserved. For anyone bearing the name Malfoy."

"Ooh, Malfoy perks! I like that."

He steered me through the room, gathering an appreciable amount of jealous stares, over to an official looking person who took him not only to a reserved back table, but a reserved back room. Blaise and several other Slytherins followed. The noise dropped off a little in the room; the seats were low and very fluffy and reminded me of the Divination classroom. Draco whispered something to the official man, who came back with a suspicious bottle and several glasses. After Draco had poured some foul-smelling liquid into each glass, I grabbed the bottle and began.

"Slow down, Weasley," he warned. I took no heed.

"Come now, Ginny," Blaise purred. "Wouldn't want you to throw up all over the place."

"I don't throw up," I replied. "So no worries."

"So do you want to tell us about your day with Potter?" Draco asked innocently.

"I want to know why it's so dark in here. I can hardly see anything."

"And that'll only get worse," he answered, unsuccessfully trying to take the bottle from me. "Alright. Talk."

"Oh, today? Today was nothing special. We didn't really get started. No, we're really going to get on with it tomorrow, and I hope to have a wonderful headache by then, thank you very much."

"By all means." He slipped his hand down the side of the chair as I consumed the rest of the bottle. His hand reappeared with a thin, expensive little box that he placed on the table. One of the other boys opened it up, revealing a surprisingly vast array of needles and gaining several squeals of anticipation.

"Children are strange," I whispered, watching them stick the needles seductively into their arms. I knew what it was, but it seemed rather pointless. But then, what wasn't pointless? I pulled out my cigarettes. "Want one?" I asked, looking over at Draco, who remained unaffected by his surroundings and who had not yet touched either substance.

"Erm...not now, thanks." He looked at me worriedly.

"Suit yourself," I replied, lighting it.

"Those will kill you, you know," an increasingly influenced Blaise informed me.

"Not fast enough."

"Ginny-" Draco's worry was increasing.

"We're all going to die, Draco. Some of us rather soon. Might as well fuck around while we can. Oh, that reminds me, I never asked if you were going home over winter break."

"Fucking around reminds you of this?"

"Yeah. You know, the thing with the dancing. Winter Ball, or formal, or whatever. Are you going?"

"I might."

"We could go, you know, if you want to."

"I thought you weren't-"

"Well I'm fairly certain that one's going to make me," I pointed to Blaise. "And I don't want the Yule Ball to be the only one I ever go to. That was a horrible day."

"Ginny, there will be other formals."

"Not for me. Oh!" I hit myself in the head the instant I said it. It was quite possible that the alcohol had begun to take affect.

His eyes momentarily widened. "What do you mean?"

I looked around before deciding that it didn't matter who heard because none of them would remember it in the morning.

"I...I'm going to die. Before the war is over." I answered him rather light-heartedly, making his eyes flare for a moment.

"Oh, is that all?"

"I'm supposed to do something, something rather instrumental, and it's going to kill me. Erm, some of the details are still a bit fuzzy."

"Are they really? Couldn't tell."

"I didn't mean to tell you."

"Oh, thank you."

"I'm sorry; I just thought it might ruin your day."

"Oh yes, I suppose that's legitimate." He sighed, leaning his head back and dragging his hand across his pale face. "Are you really going to die, Ginny?"

"It's pretty much a certainty."

"I...I'd rather you didn't." He peeked at me without moving his head.

"Thank you. Now come on, let's get me drunk so you can take advantage of it."

"Are...are you sure you want to?"

My voice came out soft, as if trying to help him in some way. As if he was the one who needed it. "That's why I'm here, Draco. I chose it. I want it. It's all that you can do for me." I paused. "By the way, I am talking about the being drunk, not the being taken advantage of. That was a joke."

"Spoil my fun."

Several hours and several bottles later I was very drunk and no longer regretting at all that I should have been out killing monsters instead. Draco had had a few drinks, but he was still perfectly fine.

"So Weasley, how did you get that horrible mark on your face?" He asked, worry free once more.

"Oh, this?" I pointed, first to the right side and then to the left, where I discovered the scar actually resided. "Erm...I think I fell on a knife. Or...or I was studying and my book re...retal...retali...fought back....I don't think I really remember."

"Somehow I don't think that's a good sign." He turned his head to the side.

"Is good. Is good...good. Not remembering is good. Remembering is bad....I think."

"Is that so?" He was smirking at me, and it put me off.

"Very so." I held my bottle up to him, not really noticing how much my hand swayed. "I think you have had too much. I think you are drunk. Drunk is bad....So...so I am cutting you off."

"Oh, I'm terribly disappointed." There was no disdain, only amusement in his voice. Maybe he liked being fully superior to me for once.

"Good. You should be."

I put the bottle down and started looking around and only stopped when my eyes fell on what I wanted.

"Draco, I want the other things." I pointed at the box. "I think they're better. I want them."

"Ginny," the worry was back in his voice. "I don't think you should-"

"But I want them. They're prettier. They make pretty colors. Pretty."

"They're dangerous."

"Well that's even better! Come on, Draco. I know you want me to have them. I know. And...and I need help. I haven't...haven't had them before. I don't know how."

He sighed. "Alright. Just a moment." He kneeled down on the floor, grabbing a needle and cleaning it carefully with some piece of clothe from his own pocket. Delicately he took hold of my arm and cleaned the spot before pushing the point slowly into my skin.

The rest of the night never did resurface in my memory.

***

The morning came too hard and fast. I tried to pull my bed hangings shut before I realized that they already were; the light was still too much for my throbbing head. I flipped over and let my body slowly slide out of bed before heading for the showers. The hot water didn't wake me up; it just made my muscles ache for comfort. I stumbled out and forced some unwilling clothes on before staring into the mirror. Odd that my hair was still black when the spell should have faded a while ago.

I managed to make my way into the Great Hall and fell into a seat beside Draco, trying very hard to be oblivious to the countless stares that followed me.

"So how is everybody?" I mumbled through gritted teeth, my eyes still squinting against the sunlight.

"You look like shit, Weasley," Draco told me simply.

"Yes, I was going for a sort of walking death thing when I got up this morning." I let my forehead fall slowly onto the table.

"I think you succeeded."

"Mm." I pulled out a cigarette and lit it without moving my head much, hoping the members of the high table wouldn't notice. "So, Draco, why are so many people looking at me? You know how I hate to be looked at."

"Erm...I guess it's got to do with that rather public fight you had with Granger."

"You're a terrible liar, Malfoy," I replied. "They're Slytherins. They don't care about that. Not that much anyway." Realization began to clamber its way into my already pounding skull. "Oh. What did I do?"

"Hmm?"

"What did I do? I must have done something during that gaping hole in my memory."

"You sort of...well..."

"Come on then." I began to grow impatient as he paused. I lifted my head slightly to look at him, holding the cigarette under the table to continue hiding it, and merely hoping the billowing smoke itself went unnoticed.

"Oh hallo Ginny," Blaise said from across the table as she sat down. "Loved your little dance last night."

"Oh god." My head fell back down. "Should have gone killing."

"The clothes were interesting as well," she continued, quite possibly enjoying my displeasure.

"Clothes?"

"Or, well, lack thereof I should say."

"Oh god." I sat up fully, temporarily forgetting about the smoking. "I think I should go. I need a headache cure. And a lot of sleep. I don't want to play right now."

"Ms. Weasley," I heard Snape's voice calling after me as I stood up.

"Oh sod." I turned around, just then remembering my new favorite habit. "Yes sir?"

"There is no smoking permitted on the grounds."

"Well I can just leave the grounds then," I answered, trying to turn away.

"You have somewhere to be, yes?"

"Yes," I sighed.

"Then I suggest you go."

"You know, professor, it occurs to me," I said, lowering my voice so that only he could hear it, "That alcohol is also not allowed on the grounds. Of course, teachers can have it, but can you imagine how disastrous it would be if students got a hold of it?"

I loved watching his face contort as he silently fought with himself. He probably knew it was more than a guess.

"I'll just go then, alright?" I asked sweetly.

"Quickly." His face was still twisted as he turned away. It would have been nice if I hadn't had to grab my head and run to the hospital wing.