Transcend

Transcend

Chapter Three - Misbegotten, Melancholy and Madness.

By Ankh

Disclaimer - Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, I am in no way affiliated with the books and nor do I have any part in creating the Harry Potter series. This is a non-profit work of fiction.

N.B - Well, this is chapter three. It's late into the night but seeing as I haven't uploaded in an age I'd better get something online. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. I don't seem to be getting very many readers, which is a bit of a bind. But then if no one feels that this is recommend-o-worthy I guess I'll have to try harder. - Enjoy.

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By the time Hermione awoke the sun had already flooded the room with pale wintry light. She lifted her head from the table and shifted in the hard-backed chair. The bleak feelings from the night before threatened to rush back in a torrent but she pushed them down. 'There's no sense in sulking, you're only here for five days - think about it, the chance to research a whole new dimension'  She repeated the thought like a mantra over and over in her head until, little by little, she almost began to believe it.

She stood and looked around the room. It seemed much larger in the daylight, without shadows hogging the corners. Her stomach rumbled; she wanted a good meal and then maybe a change of clothes. She could remember her way to the kitchen but the thought of crossing the room with the stuffed animals wasn't a pleasant one. There was probably more than one way to get there, but which way was that?

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Footman stood before the stove, waste high in billowing green smoke. In one hand he held a pan filled with sizzling bacon, eggs and tomatoes. With the other he stirred a small cauldron, each rotation of the spoon causing a fresh billow of hazy emerald vapour. He glanced at a heavy book propped open in the sink and muttered the words to himself as he read them.

"Boil for seventeen minutes…"

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Sweat and sleep stung Harry's eyes. He wanted to sit up but the mountain of bed clothes covering his weakened body pinned him down. Feebly he clawed for a long rope hanging beside his bed and pulled it once; an unseen bell tolled loudly. He lay back and waited. After a few moments Footman appeared.

"You called master?" The elf asked standing on tiptoe to look at Harry amongst the mass of pillows.

"I'm too hot, open a window." He spoke without moving his gaze from the ceiling. Footman pattered across the room to obey.

"Not that wide, I don't want to freeze instead!" Harry's hands plucked irritably at the covers.

"Sorry master." Footman adjusted the rattling shutter before returning to the bedside.

"Why can I smell food?" Asked the sickly wizard boy. "Do I look like I feel like breakfast?"

"It's not for you master, Herm… the girl… might be hungry" Harry winced at the sound of the half-spoken name and took a while to say anything more.

"You’re my house elf - not hers." He wheezed spitefully.

"It is the duty of a good elf to cater to his masters guests." Footman replied, sounding as though he was quoting from some unseen book or tome. There was another interval without any speech.

"Fine! Whatever, serve her however you like - just clear off." Spat Harry. As the house-elf left he launched into a hacking chain of coughs which didn't stop for almost a full minute.

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Hermione began to follow the smell of frying meat; her hunger overruling the temptation to peek past any of the beckoning doorways on the way. As she rounded a final corner she came upon the kitchen. The green wisps now filled most of the room, the potion having run away with itself in Footman's absence. She stopped and then backed away a little, holding her breathe against the smoke. It smelt like a blast of crisp spring air, light and ever so slightly fragrant, it was a safe smell. She spotted the pewter cauldron resting on the stove and pulled it off the heat with a nearby towel. The house-elf sped into the room as the atmosphere cleared.

"The potion! Ruined!" He spotted Hermione and froze instantly.

"It's okay; I think I got here just in time." She smiled kindly and moved away from the creatures work. She needed to find a topic she could start a conversation from. Out of the two people she'd met so far the elf seemed the most willing to shed light on what was going on. She pursed her lips and hummed in thought.

"You're not going to punish Footman for brewing wizard potions?" The elf looked up hesitantly but as soon as she met his gaze he turned away.

"Why would I want to punish you?" Surprise gave way to realisation as she saw the book. 'Pattersnueqe's all Purpose Revitalization Tonic' was printed across the top of the page. "Oh, I see. I suppose most wizards don't like the idea of elves using too much initiative." Footman nodded slightly; at least she thought he did.

"It's for the master." Squeaked the elf, nodding towards the cauldron that still gave the occasional puff off smoke… And for you there is breakfast." Footman suddenly smiled.

Ten minutes later Hermione was back in the dining room surrounded by all manner of food and drink. (The first frying pan full had just been a starter.) She felt more than a little odd, eating off of silver plates whilst wearing her ink stained and slept in school robes. She pushed her plate away decisively, unable to eat another morsel. The food here was even better than at Hogwarts. The thought raised a sudden pang of distress but she battered it down. It frightened her how easily the school had almost slipped from her mind. Footman reappeared at her side, watching her intently.

"How's Harry doing?" She asked eventually, when she could no longer stand the staring. Although she'd taken a sort of liking to the elf, despite his part in bringing her here, there was no denying that he was slightly strange. Probably left on his own too long she thought.

"The master will be back on his feet eventually." There was an optimistic feeling to the way Footman's ears waggled. "This is not the first time he has become upset and exhausted himself."

"Has he always been like this?" She asked; it was certainly different to the way her Harry was, but it also seemed vaguely similar, she just couldn't reason why.

"No, not always, he was upset once. But then you came and fixed him, then - when you left again, he got worse. Much worse."

She turned to watch the snow falling outside, a part of her felt almost guilty and she could no longer look the elf in the eyes. "… Why did you leave us mistress?" Said the creature, melancholy. The bundle of nerves rolling around Hermione's head suddenly snapped undone.

"I'm not his Hermione! And I don't belong here, not one bit! So stop making me feel like I should do!" The depression and the anger came swirling back and curdled in her stomach like milk and battery acid. She seethed and stood up so quickly that the chair toppled backwards.

"I just want to go home." She said finally, her voice came out in a frightened little whisper.

"Maybe I should leave?" Suggested the Elf, he didn't seem overly concerned with her misery - just mildly interested. She sniffed back a sob and nodded.

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Harry lay sprawled in a sleeping heap. The shouting from below reached his ears but he didn't wake up. Instead the words slipped into his subconscious and a new dream formed in his head. Fragments of memory slowly converged into pictures…

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The Hermione he remembered and longed for stood facing the main exit. Sunlight streamed through the decorative windows around the door and the only thing stopping her from going out to enjoy the weather was him.

"Just wait a second." He said, not that she had much choice with him barring the doorway. She gave him a bemused look and waited. "Well you see…" He began, sounding nervous and out of sorts. "These last couple of days have been really… well… great." He stopped like he was waiting for an answer.

"Thank you." She said blankly; feeling a little weird.

"And… you see, I'm not sure I'm even allowed to have you over this often. The people at the ministry don't like it when I have visitors, too many forms or something." He stopped again.

"Harry, they think you’re a raging psychopath. You don't need to hide it from me." He nodded.

"Yeah, forms… me being the most powerful destructive force ever to hold a wand - it's all good. Anyway, the thing is. I really like you Hermione… and… um, would you go out with me or something like that." His voice trailed off and he ended up looking at his feet. The afternoon seemed to come to an abrupt halt throwing everyone off balance. A frown broke across her face.

"I don't belong here Harry… I wish I did, I really do, there's not one bit of me that doesn't. But I can only see you every now and then. And I've got exams to revise for, and well my parents don't understand like they should. I'm sure they'd like you if they got to know you but…"

"Please Hermione." He took a careful step towards her. "Please, I'll give you anything you want. All the money I have if you'll just." CRACK! She slapped him across the face suddenly. Her cheeks coloured red and her hands flew to her hips.

"I am not for sale Harry Potter!" He reeled from the blow and staggered backwards a little way. When he pulled his fingers away from his mouth they were flecked with spots of blood.

"I didn't mean it like that!" He prodded at his teeth tenderly. Hermione tried to retain her composure but she could feel her anger melting by the second. The truth was she couldn't help but feel affection for the scrawny boy.

"Aw, I know you didn't really mean it, I suppose." He still looked hurt. "Look, I'll try - I will honestly try my hardest to be your girlfriend."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Harry felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and all the wonderful feelings that had been fluttering there seemed to crash to the floor. It was one of those awful moments when a little nagging part of you whispers that everything is too good to be true and despite your best efforts you have to believe it. It slowly dawned on Harry that he was dreaming…

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"Goddamit! Get out of my head!" He woke up yelling at his loudest. Despite the sickness that clung to his body he pulled himself upright. His mind, which was so often clouded by exhaustion, was tempered into razor-sharp rage. He lashed out at the shapeless mound of eiderdowns and pillows, sending feathers and scraps of fabric in all directions. He raged until his fingers could rip no more and then, with no other conduit for his anger he threw himself onto the ruined bedspread and cried. Tears rolled down his face like spiky-edged pebbles. The only saving grace he could muster was that the girl he loved couldn't see him now.

There was a gentle tapping at the door. He tensed up and turned his head to glare at the gilded handle, willing it not to turn. But it did.

"Footman, I don’t want anymore of your damn potions!" He scrambled into a sitting position and wiped at his eyes furiously, smearing the wetness across his face.

"I'm not the elf; I think he's gone off somewhere." A human hand appeared around the door, followed by a gently stepping shoe and a loose lock of brown hair. "There was shouting, and a crash, are you okay?" Hermione entered slowly, her face was streaked and her voice wavered ever so slightly.

"Oh… it's you." He looked over the snow-capped gardens through the windows, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine." He said when it was clear she wasn't going to go away on her own.

"You don't look too great; your eyes are all red." She said taking a step closer, concerned.

"Yours are too." He ground his teeth together hard making it plain that he wasn't enjoying the conversation. She pursed her lips.

"Yeah, well, I was upset... I still am upset. But then I heard you, and Footman wasn't around so I thought I'd better check. - Now, what's up?" He stared at her for a moment and then sighed in a world weary way. "Well for all I knew you could have thrown yourself out of the window or something." She lectured huffily.

He sighed again, did she ever give up? "There's a charm on the ground below that stops me."

"That's awful!"

"I know." He smirked darkly.

"I didn't mean like that. I mean it's awful that you'd even think about it."

"Look, this may come as a surprise but I really-do-no-want-you-here. So could you please just get out of my site until you zap back into your own dimension?" He stood up and confronted her; the degree of anger that remained seemed to give him the strength.

"Sure." He looked at her surprised by the compliance. "As soon as you tell me what's wrong with you." He scowled.