Scrap Parchment

She couldn’t breathe. A stagnant pressure entered her chest as he gently squeezed her hand, his vibrant green eyes silently asking the questions she’d forbidden him to speak.

Reality seemed to be two steps away from her, sinking further back into the night as she reached for it desperately with quivering fingers.

How ironic that it would be he who would finally learn the truth, he who would witness the fear and aborhance spewing forth for all to see. She had worked so hard to wall it in, to be strong solely for him- but once she started, she couldn’t stop. Her emotions escaped her lips despite the desperate pleas of her mind to do no such thing. They flowed freely; a tidal wave bursting through the metal shell of a mighty damn, raging on in fleeting momentum; disaster left in its wake.

And oh! His eyes were so wide. She couldn’t bare to look at him as they continued to grow with compassion and empathy, and took instead to staring through salty tears at her own shaky fingers.

By the time she’d finished, she was mumbling- her senses too far gone to maintain any inkling of composure. It surprised her a bit when two warm hands gently collected her face and raised it skyward. She took in the comfort he provided hungrily, feeding off the heat of his touch in fleeting gulps as he watched her carefully.

When she’d thought every word had been uttered, and there wasn’t one left to say, he asked her one question: Why? She was coherent enough to let spill one more slurred little word. It was but one tiny little clue to the cause of her self disdain but from the look in his eyes she knew, to him if no one else, it spoke volumes.

“Dolohov.”

- - -

Kill… Mame… Destroy... Annihilate...

He’d made every attempt to talk her into it, but in the end it took physical coercion. After all, she needed help- help that a confused young boy tottering on the edge of sanity couldn’t provide.

His arm was still sore when he reached the common room, inflamed red streaks stinging uncomfortably- remnants of the discordant bombardment of nails against flesh as he’d dragged her down the spiral stairs.

Smother… Seize... Obliviate…

He could still clearly remember the look that had come over her as he nearly carried her towards the hospital wing: it was that a kitten tossed from a bridge; clawing away at the overbearing current as it carried her down an ice cold river- dragging her towards an uncertain fate against jagged rocks and the open mouth of a heartless sea.

The solid grip he held over her frail arm remained constant as Madame Pomfrey, clad in a cobbler housecoat, listened with wide eyes to his account. He’d stood firm as she’d pounded her fists against his chest angrily while the medi-witch disappeared into the shadows in search of the headmaster. Her misplaced words turned into violent sobs when the headmaster arrived and demanded she remain in the hospital wing for further evaluation.

Dispatch... Finish... Butcher....

In the end she’d stopped crying; stopped beating his chest angrily as he took it without protest, and chocolate eyes silently pleaded with him to stay until the sleeping draught took effect. He’d done just that, her slender arms wrapped around his left while he sat at the edge of the stiff bed, his right arm stinging sourly as Madame Pomfrey poured a burning antiseptic on the bloody pockets trailing his forearm.

Stifle…

He’d taken it all without complaint: penance for betraying her trust. She’d forgive him eventually, he reasoned as the portrait opened and he made his way through the dark passage. She needed help- help that a confused young boy tottering on the edge of sanity couldn’t provide.

“Out for a little midnight stroll?” Austere treachery pulled him from his thoughts, emanating from the base of the stairs where cobalt blue eyes watched him from within a mess of red hair and a malignant scowl.

Shatter… Smash... Undo…

“Think you could go sneaking behind my back all year, did you?” the red head continued, marching forward with balled fists and a baneful air.

Halt. Nullify. Decimate. Sack.

“Ever plan on telling me?”

Wreck. Abolish. Extinguish… Devastate. Slay. Ravage… Neutralize. Nix.

“Damn it Ron!” he found himself shouting, slowly passing well beyond the point of reason. “Do you ever think about anyone beside yourself? There is something really wrong with Hermione and you aren’t doing a thing to help her!” He stood silently fuming as cobalt blue eyes bore into him with increasing hostility.

“Of course not!” the other boy, a perfect replica of his best friend, responded with a quivering lip, waving his arms in the air in a fit of envy and rage. “Not while Harry the hero is around! Always there to save the day!”

Remove. Extract. Assassinate. Decollate. Nail. Extirpate. Mutilate. Calamatize.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Maintaining a hold on his anger was becoming more and more difficult as those angry blue eyes continued to approach him, coupled with voiced absurdity and unnecessary incertitude. 

Snuff. Deaden. Defeat. Still. End. Expunge. Quash. Cancel. Liquidate…

“The one girl,” the stranger that emulated his best friend countered hoarsely, an accusing finger shaking slightly in the space between them. “The one girl I fancy and you go and take her away from me! Is there anything you don’t want all to yourself? Is there anything left for me?”

Demolish.Destruct.Asphyxiate.Ruinate.Shatter.Smash.Undo.

“Nothing is going on between us!”

Fictitious laughter echoed against stone walls, twirling joyously about the darkened obscurity.

WasteEradicateImmolateOffSaughterWipeMangleRuinExterminate…

“That’s what you want me to think, isn’t it? That’s what you-“

The familiar stranger wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Throwing the scarlet haired boy to the ground, they collided harshly with the stairs and the common room filled with a painful gasp. He struggled beneath Harry’s weight as the raven haired boy raised his fist and connected it harshly with a lanky nose. Blood met waxen knuckles and Harry raised his fist again. Thrusting it forward, he directed it once again towards the bloody mess struggling beneath him. The stranger shifted, and he cried out in pain as his knuckles collided harshly with the solid steps hidden beneath velvet fabric.

Hot pain seared through his temple as the force of strong punch sent him reeling back. His glasses fell from his face and he rose, piling into the boy before him, knocking the two once again to the floor. Wands lay long forgotten as enraged fists worked tirelessly, swiping away, blow after blow as the stranger before him returned his heightened fury with sharp punches and swift kicks.

New voices erupted amidst their furious shouting; new hands pulled him away as his anger continued to blind him, and he swiped wickedly at the red haired stranger now held at bay by blurry figures calling his best friend’s name. Other figures, vague and unrecognizable, dragged him away from the bloody incomer, one thought flowing freely amidst the river of anger swirling violently about him.

Antonin. Dolohov. Will. Pay.

A/N: I could continue to write mysterious chapters forever, I hope you all know! I figured I ought to at least answer one or two questions… hope I’ve given enough information for you to figure it out… but you’re an intelligent lot, I know you’ll understand! Still, this chapter feels like it’s missing something… if anyone finds it please report it to the lost & found, aka me… it’d be greatly appreciated.

Please note:  Hermione did not get raped. I do not condone rape. I do not write about rape. I do not condone writing about rape. Other things can happen to make a person feel unclean. Please stop sending me reviews asking if she was raped. She wasn’t. Not even close. No rape.

Thanks for all the reviews, advice, feedback, and just everything so far! I hope to have this story wrapped up within two or three chapters, but knowing me it may take a bit longer. I’m glad you’ve all chosen to come along for the ride!