Over My Head

Chapter 13: Borders in the Dark

"Your sorry eyes, they cut through bone

They make it hard to leave you alone

Leave you here wearing your wounds

Waving your guns at somebody new"

-Beck

I took my headache cure and slept all through the day, and the next morning woke with my head full of bad dreams and other terrible, inescapable things. Like Hermione.

My mind wandered over the memory of her soft intake of breath and the curve where my hand used to fit, where Harry's hand must have...

It wasn't good, the mental image that brought up. It wouldn't do. But it had to be half the reason I needed to give myself a headache so badly a night ago. The other half being my imminent death. Which really, I told myself, wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for Hermione. And it was comfort, but not truth.

So I forced myself up and forced myself to go to breakfast and forced myself not to smoke and forced myself down to play with Harry. And we played silly, pointless games full of silly, pointless curses. We even laughed a little bit. But mine was a laugh at the absurdity, and full of all my hidden fear and dread and everything I woke up with.

Remus was glad I wasn't smoking, but he saw the look in my eyes and all his gladness went far away. I was sorry for a moment, but what could I possibly do?

I could get drunk, of course. The next day was Saturday. No worries.

So everything swirled away in the liquid, until it all became empty, meaningless gestures and stupid words that were never fully said and never should have been thought at all. Draco's worry never went away, but I stopped noticing it after a while. He dragged me back to the castle I some point, he must have, and put me down in front of Gryffindor's entrance. But he couldn't get me in and it seemed that I could barely stand, so he went back to his tower hoping someone would claim me and bring me inside.

I must have sat merely five minutes before giving up hope myself and getting up to take a walk.

I remembered the wide-eyed fear and excitement I'd entertained when I first came here. The excitement faded out long before the other, and I was left with only it and Tom. No friends to speak of. So it made sense that I let Tom take me down there, so I could be part of something, since I would obviously never be part of anything else. I was willing, then, to sacrifice myself for a greater cause. Could I still say the same?

This was, of course, merely a slight notion in my spinning-into-nothingness mind. My tending-towards-chaos thought process that frequently jumped the track couldn't keep hold onto all the things that moved in and out. It even had some difficulty keeping my legs moving (although towards what I could not say) and this resulted in groping the walls for support.

I was rather surprised when I wound up in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, even though it made perfect sense in every way. I had nothing else to blame everything on, so why shouldn't I be allowed to blame it on this place? After all, Hermione had never been down there, had never seen the dark things it held, and I had. So that had to stand between us in some way. That had to mean something, didn't it? That had to be why she wanted Harry instead of me.

But Harry had been down there too. Harry had seen all those dark things and many more, and if this stood between us, then the many more had to stand between them. And still she wanted him.

I fell down, right before I reached the sink. I just couldn't work my legs anymore.

"Why would you? Why would you ever?" I didn't realize I had said it out loud at first, until my voice echoed back to me.

"Why would I what?" A rather annoyed voice asked back. In my broken state I could not determine to whom it belonged.

"Why would you want him instead of me? Why would you let him touch you? He's not right. He's...bad. You don't even like him."

"I don't like who?" the voice asked again, slowly moving from pissed-off to amused.

"You don't like Harry, you know that. You must know. Of course, you are crazy, so maybe you don't."

"You're the one talking to walls," a different, softer voice told me.

"Yeah, what she said," the first voice agreed.

"But why are they talking back?" I asked, grabbing my head, which only made my torso even harder to hold up.

"Because you want them to," the soft voice replied.

"You think so?" I asked.

"Of course."

"Then I think you are crazy."

"You're the one talking to walls."

"She makes a point," the harder voice said. I finally vaguely recognized this one as belonging to Moaning Myrtle.

I let my hands fall, attempted to drag myself closer to the sink.

"I'm not talking to walls," I replied, hoping my voice didn't actually sound as desperate as it felt. "I'm talking to little ghosties, who haven't bloody learned to move on yet."

"What?" Myrtle cried.

"You died ages ago. Get over it already."

I lifted my head up in time to watch Myrtle soar up and make a face at me before diving down into the U-Bend.

"I told you I wasn't talking to walls," I angrily informed the soft voice, whose owner still remained out of my line of sight as I tried to pull myself up with the edge of a sink.

"I never doubted you. You did."

"Well I suppose I told me then."

Finally I was up, although certainly far from steady.

"I should really stop doing this," I muttered.

"You--you've--you've done this before?"

"Of course," I answered. "Didn't realize that yesterday, Herm?"

"Oh Ginny!" She rushed forward, watching as my knees started giving out again. She whispered a spell to make me lighter and picked me up.

"Are you a knight?" I asked, incredulously.

"Erm...why not?" she whispered as she walked out into the darkened halls. She took me up stairs and down more halls, back and forth one a few times until a door opened. Inside there was a bed that she put me on, and a cauldron that she started to work with. In a few minutes she came back to the bed and tilted a glass to my lips.

"Oh god," I whispered when everything came screaming back into focus, "what was that?"

"Sobrietus Potion," she answered easily, that odd look of superiority that she never seemed to intend spread across her face.

"I don't remember Snape ever mentioning that one."

"He didn't. I learned it on my own."

"You are incredible," I told her, "and I'm not so sure if that's a compliment."

"Well, I'll just assume it is." She stood up and put the cup back over by the cauldron. "Come on, we should get back to the dorm before Filch comes along."

"We're in the Room of Requirement, aren't we? Does he actually check this room? I suppose he knows it's here now...."

"I don't know. He might. I just think we shouldn't risk it," she said. Her voice had grown suddenly distant, and now its tone was edging towards sharpness.

"I...I should get some sleep. Loads to do tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday. What do you have to do on a Saturday?"

"Things I couldn't do during the week." I smiled secretively at her and stood up with minimal difficulty. "Oh look, my legs work again!"

"What couldn't you do during the week?"

I my smile was only a little bitter. "Bad things. Terrible, terrible things. But it's all for the greater good, so what does it matter, anyway?"

"Ginny-"

"Not worth it, Hermione. I can't tell you. Not yet."

"I--I--fine. Let's just go."

***

I woke up barely three hours after I went to sleep, slipped on some new clothes and walked up to Hogsmeade. I found my way to one of the back alley shops before I went to the Shrieking Shack, carrying three rather large boxes.

It was midday when I was interrupted. Draco walked through the gaping hole where once there had been a door, carrying a somewhat lumpy package.

"How did you find me?" I asked, truly puzzled.

"Professor Lupin told me," he replied, looking just as confused, "and that was quite an experience. I hadn't seen him in a few years and then he just came up to me in the Great Hall and told me where you were. I didn't even have to ask."

"That's Remus for you." I smiled.

"You call him by his first name?"

"Yes. We're sleeping together."

He stared at me.

"You know I'm not serious, right?"

"Thank god," he sighed. He sat down on the torn up mattresses from a former couch and started to take things out of his package. I realized suddenly that he had packed a lunch.

I turned away from my boxes and went to sit with him.

"You hungry?" he asked, holding a sandwich out to me.

"Sure." I took it from him and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

"So er...what have you been doing all day?" he asked as he was finishing his food.

"Mostly blowing things up."

"Is that why...?" he asked, waving a hand vaguely around his head.

"No, this house is like this because of a werewolf. Remus, in fact. And, interestingly enough, I only know this because of Hermione."

"Then...then what have you been blowing up?"

"You know what I've noticed lately? How people keep pausing while they're talking to me. Maybe they've always done it, I don't know. But it leaves the distinct impression of fear in its wake."

"Er...sorry?"

"Anyway, I've been blowing rats up." His eyebrows rose. "Would you like a demonstration?" When he didn't answer, I turned back to the boxes and held out a hand. A fat, greasy rat flew out and landed on the floor. Before it could run away, I muttered a spell under my breath, making it unable to move. Then, pausing for Draco to figure out what I had done, I closed my eyes in concentration and whispered another spell, and the rat exploded, tiny little tufts of greasy fur falling on the floor.

"Oh," he answered.

"I don't have to blow them up, of course. I could just kill them, but that's no fun." A morbid smile crawled over my face. "Besides, it's much more painful, and isn't that the whole point?"

"You sound like my father."

"Oh my. Do I really?"

"Yes."

"Ah. Good. Very good."

"Er, sorry, I'm a bit confused. You want to sound like a murderous bastard?"

"Well no, not really. I'm just supposed to."

"I'm sure one of these days I'll understand." He let his hand fall down in a rather hopeless gesture.

"You know, with Harry. He's not ready, not nearly. None of us are. Can you imagine? Children preparing for a war that's already coming down on their heads."

"Yeah, I know." His face clouded over. I suppose he was a little troubled by the lightness in my voice.

"Yeah. Like with Hermione. Her parents."

"Who were sacrificed for me." His hand trailed over his face. "And the most insulting part of all of this is that I feel guilty about it. Isn't that just ridiculous? I feel guilty about the deaths of two muggles. If my father...well, he's already disowned and attempted to murder me, I don't suppose there's much more he can do."

"I--I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."

"You didn't. You just reminded me that I do," he sighed, rather uncharacteristically. "I suppose these things don't really go away. I'll feel guilty about it for the rest of my life, won't I?"

"Probably. But hey, on the bright side, you have about a thirty percent chance that the rest of you life will be more than just a few months. So you know, maybe you'll die. Won't feel guilty then, will you?" He managed a feeble smile. "I wonder how Harry's going to feel for the rest of his life."

"What? Why do you care? Isn't he dating the girl you're chasing? Shouldn't there be...you know, competition there?"

"Competition doesn't necessarily mean hatred."

"Since when?" He smiled widely at me. "Isn't that what makes it fun?"

"I suppose what's really odd is that I did hate Harry. I just don't think I'm quite capable of it anymore. Which is terrible, really, because all of this would be so much easier if I hated him. You know, then I could just blame him, right?"

"Er..."

"Yes, I know, I'm not making any sense." I sighed. "She slept with him, you know?" I told him everything as fast as I could get it out, everything I hadn't been able to tell him, from my face to Harry to scents to wall-talking. "It's terrible. Actually, I like the smell. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but I've gotten used to it, and now it feels rather...natural. Like this is the way it should have been the whole time....And I suppose that's true."

Draco looked confused again.

"I think I've worked out that the charms mum put on me to keep me from knowing what I really am are fading. It started with, you know, the physical strength. And then all of the other things that followed. In fact, I'm wondering if this is how my hair's actually supposed to look like."

"You know, I like your hair much better this way. It makes you look--"

"Less like a Weasley?"

"I was going to say 'more Slytherin.'"

"Same thing, really."

He laughed a little. I took out a cigarette, making him roll his eyes.

"Do you always have to have those things?"

"I happen to like them," I answered simply.

"Really? They're rather foul."

"That's why I like them. They're incredibly foul. Indescribably foul. It's they're best quality." I smiled as I lit one up. "What, haven't you ever tried them?"

"I did once, actually. Summer before fifth year, I stole some of my mother's and tried them."

"And?"

"And I couldn't figure out how to light them. Apparently it takes more than just holding a match at the end. I wound up burning one beyond repair without ever managing to light it at all. It was quite annoying."

"You have to breathe in while you do it," I informed him.

"Oh. Of course. Damn." He looked rather disappointed. "I suppose you figured this out immediately, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. Simple trial and error. I destroyed two cigarettes before I figured it out. I was just really determined, you see."

"Why were you so determined, anyway?"

"Well I figured there had to be some advantage to certain doom, right? I get to smoke and I never have to worry about cancer or any of those muggle things they get so worked up about. It works with other things too. I can get drunk out of my mind and the consequences can't be too bad, because I won't have to live with them for long. I can do whatever I want, really."

"I suppose I envy you for that."

"Really?"

"Well, not for the...just because, if I were where you are, I think I'd just..."

I raised my eyebrows. "Wet yourself?"

"Certainly not," he said, somewhat haughtily. "I just don't think I'd be so relaxed about it."

"Oh, well I can tell you my secret there." The half morbid, half bitter smile returned. "Denial, pure and simple."

"Oh. I'm sure that's healthy."

We were silent a few minutes.

"So what about you and Harry?" I asked suddenly.

"What?" he said, his look of confusion very similar to panic.

"Well, do you still hate him?"

"Of course," he answered rather quickly. "He's an insufferable git."

"I suppose that's fair," I said, nodding. "But I maintain that Ron is worse."

"And you meet no argument," he muttered, with an interesting amount of vehemence. I looked at him sideways, but his face was turned down.

He left eventually. When I ran out of rats, I moved on to the pig in one of the other boxes, wondering if I could work the same spells on bigger things. When the pig blew up, I opened the last box. I was quite sure the last box was illegal in more than one way.

After sunset, I walked back to the grounds and stood around near the forest for a while. I learned that even two days off allowed their numbers to swell, and began to walk back to the castle quite worse for wear. Just as I reached the entrance, a monster I hadn't seen jumped on me.

In the course of a second, I felt something rise in me that couldn't have been there before. I spun around as it rose and turned to face the demon, which appeared taken aback by the site of me. I threw both hands forward and roared the spell I'd spent all day teaching myself. And it exploded. Dust, without a stake or an axe.

"Huh. Well that's new."

I hurried back to my room, limping and pained. It seemed not an inch of me remained unscratched or bruised. I managed my way into the bathroom, looked up at my reflection, then stumbled back into the corner in surprise. My legs gave out; I fell into a ball, hands over my face. But then I pulled them back to look at them, and just as I did, Hermione walked in and screamed.

Before any of the other, now waking students could enter the room, it faded away back to normal. As the room began to crowd, students gasping at my broken form, Hermione and I stared at each other with similar expressions of horror.

Blue skin, raised bits of whitish flesh like veins, completely black eyes, sharp, overlarge teeth. I realized quite slowly that we had seen my demon face.