Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter & co. Sad, I know.
AN - this chapter was brought to you courtesy of HeidiHo
Chapter Two - Lovely, Just Lovely!
Lovely - my room is decorated in green and silver: the colours of my heart. For Merlin's sake, just because I'm a Slytherin it doesn't mean that all I want to see for a whole damn year is green and silver. Things are going to change around here. Not right now, but soon. Now I want to test the bed to see if it's as comfortable as it looks. I may have slept on the train, but having one of those nightmares sure didn't help in the rest department. I shed my clothes and I throw them in the middle of the room. I prefer to sleep naked - I can't stand pajamas, for they feel like a prison around my body and I hate that.
I put my wand under my pillow, I tuck myself in and I close my eyes. Good night Hermione, I bid myself before sleep whisks me away.
During the night I bolt to my feet right in the middle of the bed yelling my head off. I frenetically twist and turn trying to pull myself out of the linen that had the audacity to tangle between my feet. I trip and a small distant part of my brain acknowledges the fall. I don't feel any pain. Finally I manage to rip away the sheets. I'm naked in the middle of my room and I scream as loud as I can.
I don't cry. I used to do that, a long time ago, in another life. By now I had even forgotten how it feels. Instead I scream. I scream at the top of my lungs until I feel my neck tearing itself apart and my vocal cords become sour. I kid myself that I had lost the ability to shed tears away. Sometimes I remember my mother holding me at her bosom while I soaked her nightshirt. She would whisper soothing words in my ear, words that would take away the pain. I don't have a mother anymore. She's gone, and took my tears away with her.
Somebody is at my door. Stupid me, I had forgotten to put a silencing charm on the room. No one has the right to see me like this. No one!
The spell doesn't have a name, nor does it have an incantation. It is a spell born in the recesses of my soul, fuelled by my most inner desires of vengeance; it draws strength from my hatred and loathing, from my anger and from my desire to crush under my heel all those who have ever harmed me.
As I point my wand at the opening door I let all this energy fly through me directly at the intruder. This is the first time I use it against a living being, and I don't really know what to expect. The spell rushes towards its target. It's Potter standing in my doorframe, with his wand drawn. He conjures a shield just in time. I don't know if it did any good, for my hex passes right through it and connects with his wand arm with no apparent effect whatsoever. I have a pretty sour taste in my mouth after witnessing my greatest creation fail miserably.
"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" I yell in rage. He just stands there eyeing me like he has just been hit by lighting where the sun doesn't shine, a horrified expression on his face. I understand that with my body scarred beyond belief I won't win any beauty competitions, but, for some reason, seeing the reaction of the first male to see me like this hurts beyond belief.
Before I can yell some more at him, Potter staggers on his feet and falls down. Bullocks! I rush to his side - he is not passed out, only very, very dizzy. I conjure a bucket of ice cold water and I give him an impromptu bath. That sure does the trick, for he promptly opens his eyes. I stare at him as his body jerks in surprise when he takes a better look at me. Now, in the far better illuminated common room all pretenses are off. For several long moments neither one of us says anything. We just look at each other - me at his face and he at my body, trying to memorize each and every scar. And as there are more then a few it takes some time.
When he finally raises his inquiring eyes to my face, I decide to put an end to this. "Did you enjoyed yourself, Potter?" He doesn't answer me, but something changes in the way he looks at me. For Merlin sakes, I don't want his pity! How dares he?
SMACK. My left hand sure did leave a mark on his face. If he was affected by my slap I really can't tell, for he didn't even wince.
"If word about this gets around school, you won't live long enough to regret it, Potter! Do you understand?" I threaten him in my coldest voice. Pointing my wand at him, and not waiting for a response, I turn around and storm to my room. I slam the door shut and cast the most potent silencing charm I know. How am I going to get to sleep now? I drag myself under the covers wishing more than ever not to have any feelings at all, wishing that my mask wasn't just an illusion, wishing that I had never been born at all. I take a pillow and crush it to my chest and I hope that the nightmares will leave me alone just this once…
It's finally morning and I'm walking straight to McGonagall office. I skipped breakfast for I really did not want to face all of Hogwarts so early. Like a litany, I recite passages from Hogwarts, A History so maybe, just maybe I can stop myself from thinking about last night. To my extreme relief it works, and before I know it I'm at my destination.
As always, the majestic statue of a gargoyle stands guarding the entrance. Now this is a very peculiar statue. There were more than a few the times when I walked by it and I almost caught it moving by itself. Sometimes I think that it does that on purpose just to irk me. I look at it and I can swear that it is mocking me from behind its stony gaze. The idea of transfigurating one of my quills into a sledgehammer and smacking the statue on the head to find out once and for all if it's truly alive or not is as tempting as ever. Or maybe I should try conjuring a huge anvil and letting it fall on it. I'm sure that McGonagall will not expel me if I ever follow up on my plans, for she is as frustrated about this nagging mystery as I am, perhaps even more so. Last year, during one of our many nightly talks she confessed to me that since she was a student here she has been asking herself this very question. And not even after all this time has she found an answer that would satisfy her. This is just one of those little secrets that make Hogwarts what she is today - one of the most mysterious places in the wizarding world. It may be strange to refer to this old castle as a she, but sometimes as I walk her corridors alone, I can feel her presence envelop me in a protective embrace. And if it's really quiet, I can almost hear her voice as she tries to speak with me, but I can never understand the words…
I kneel in front of the gargoyle to better observe the many intricate details that make this sculpture look so lively. As I trace its delicate curves with my eyes, I marvel at the craftsmanship of the Master Carver that gave life to this block of granite.
I hear some footsteps. Just as my head is turning away from the statue to see who's coming, the gargoyle winks at me! Suddenly I have this great urge to growl in frustration. You know, don't you, this means war! It's only a matter of time before I'll find a way to reveal its true nature, and now I'm more determined then ever before. The gargoyle doesn't stand a chance. As battle plans are beginning to be cooked up inside my head, I spin around, for the footsteps are drawing near.
Potter is coming. Only he is not alone. Attached at his hip, like an overgrown parasite, the she-Weasley is whispering Merlin knows what to him. She looks extremely happy about something. Maybe she has found a knut on the floor and now she is having dreams of grandeur… Or maybe not, for Potter looks pensive; and is that concern I see in his eyes when he looks from me to her? This is the first time since our incident that we have seen each other and I'm curious to see how strange this will be.
As they reach me, Potter - the ever-polite one - nods in greeting. Of course I do not return it, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless. She, on the other hand, tries her best to ignore me just as I seem to do with her. Needless to say, she's failing miserably. I truly hope, for the sake of the audience, that she has not chosen a career in show business, for she is a lousy actress.
Finishing whatever she had to say to him, she hoists herself up and gives him a loud peck on the lips, a huge smile plastered on her face. Ahh… isn't this just lovely? It makes me want to puke. Aren't there rules about this sort of thing? Wait a minute… I'm Head Girl, and I can't let transgressions like this to go unnoticed. This is how all delinquents start - first they break the little rules, and then, seeing that they don't get punished, who's to stop them from going further down the road to felony? Well, not on my watch…
"Ten points each from Gryffindor for open displays of affection." This sure got her attention.
"You can't do that!" she snaps at me, a killer look in her eyes. Potter just sighs, further ruffling his already messy hair. He looks kind of cute when he does that. Hey… where did that come from? I give myself a mental slap and turn my attention to her.
"You are a prefect and you don't know the school rules… Tut, tut… Clearly you are in no position to do your job correctly. Maybe a detention will give you the motivation you need." It amuses me terribly to see her eyes widen in disbelief. "Report to Filch tonight at 8. I'm sure he'll be delighted to let you scrub some toilets clean." The effect my words have on her is quite interesting. Her face gets so red that you can't tell where her skin ends and where her hair begins.
While Potter is trying to calm her down - what he sees in her is beyond me - I hear more footsteps coming down the hallway. The entire prefect population is heading this way, and McGonagall is with them. Are they trying to do what I think they are? Is this why the she-Weasley was grinning like an idiot not too long ago? As if reading my thoughts, the one in question has the grace to shed some light on the situation.
"Enjoy it while it lasts Granger. We'll see who's laughing in the end," she spits at me through gritted teeth. Circe, give me strength! Why do I have to meet with dimwits and nincompoops like this every, single, day?! Before my thoughts can go further down the road of self-pity, the Headmistress reaches us. The gargoyle jumps to the side at her approach, revealing the spiral stairway. I guess that when you are Headmistress you don't really need to say the password. Most of the prefects are sending me dark looks before they make their way upwards and into the office. Soon there isn't anyone left in the corridor but Potter, McGonagall and me.
"Can't we lock them up there while we talk someplace else?" I ask the old lady. Her lips are pursed in two very thin lines, and her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. Now everyone thinks that she does that when she is beyond upset. Even Potter. But I know better. In reality she's trying hard not to smile. She is wearing a mask, just like I am. Perhaps that is why we understand each other so well. I wonder how many in the school have heard her contagious laughter. I bet I'm one of the select few…
Another day, another prefect meeting… I truly hope that this is not going to be a daily occurrence…
A/N. Many, many thanks to all those who have read and reviewed. Cheers to you all! I'm sorry for the shortness of this chapter - I'll make it up to you with the third, I promise. Btw, to all those who are wondering about Harry Potter and the Secret Within - it's not abandoned; if all goes well, it will be updated shortly.