(HP) Between Mirrors 01
Apr. 14th, 2006 12:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsukinofaeriiBetween Mirrors 1/2
GWL Arc
By![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tsukinofaerii
Rating: SNIP
Alternate Timeline/Generic
Warnings: Profane, Violent, Sexual, female/female, male/male
Spoilers: Book canon Half-Blood Prince
Series: Harry Potter
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Harry/Draco
Summary: Dreams of a new sort are plaguing Harri, combined with strange hallucinations of people who could almost be familiar. Is this a new ploy sent by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or is a deeper game in motion? The answer is just on the other side of her dreams. Complete short story.
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Harry Potter was created and is owned by J.K. Rowling. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
***
Harri groaned and hid under the covers as her bed curtains were yanked back viciously.
"Harri!" Her blankets were pulled away next, leaving her in her pajamas. "Up and out! It's Saturday!" Denise grinned at her, teeth incredibly white against her dark skin.
"Exactly!" Eyes squinted against the blinding morning sun through the tower windows, Harri groped for her blankets.
"But it's game day," Ronnie reminded her from the next bed over. She was already dressed in her Quidditch gear.
Nothing registered immediately in Harri's dream-fogged brain. "Game day? What..?" Finally the information leaked down to her conscious. "The game!" She rolled out of bed, feet hitting the stone floor already moving for her trunk. From habit, she didn't look at the too-empty bed on the far side of the room. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"We did," Denise answered. "I'm going to join Seanna downstairs. See you at breakfast."
"Bye!" Harri wasn't paying attention, head down in her trunk and trying to keep from falling in. Ronnie seemed oblivious to her predicament, adjusting her Quidditch robes in the mirror to display the Team Captain's badge to best effect before heading down to wait in the common room.
In the week since the canceled Quidditch match, Harri had been dreaming of mirrors every night and some daylight hours, without the creepy voice luckily. Every time the dream seemed more and more realistic and more fascinating. She'd found that if she tried to look beyond her own reflection in the mirrors, there was a different view beyond them all. She could spend a whole night exploring every angle if she let herself. One of them even showed her own place. That part was odd, more like a thin layer of some kind of membrane than glass. She could push through it of she tried, but that was the only one. Still, the whole place seemed pretty innocent. Since they obviously had nothing to do with Volde, she didn't even tell Hermes or Ronnie.
Not to say that she wouldn't tell them if something changed, but she swore she'd tell Dumbledore first. She wasn't going to risk her friends again. Losing Neve had been more than enough.
***
The autumn sky was a clear, shining robins-egg blue, touched with a few fluffy bits of cloud that scurried over the Quidditch pitch. Ronnie knocked gloves with Stevic Harlow, the Slytherin Captain. Professor Hooch explained the game, as usual, while the teams arranged themselves for take off.
Harri barely paid any attention to the proceedings. Her eyes were only for Dracaena, at the back of the Slytherin team. They hadn't talked the incident, but that wasn't unusual in their strange on-again off-again maybe-relationship. For a moment, Harri's head reeled and the air shimmered like sunlight on a mirror. It looked like the blonde had cut her hair and slicked it back, echoing something just out of memory. But on a second look she saw that Dracaena's hair was intact, just pulled back into a severe ponytail and then braided. It made her self-assured smirk sharper without cascades of curls to soften it.
The whistle broke the clear sky, shrill and sharp. Harri and Dracaena shot straight into the air, parallel blurs flying so close their ankles brushed. Below them the quaffle passed between teams at a blinding pace. The seekers didn't notice or care, battling each other in a midair ballet, matching dive for dive in a race for the snitch.
Harri swore as Dracaena refused to be shaken off her tail after twenty minutes of effort. An attempted Wronski Feint only pulled Dracaena closer to her tail. She swerved sharply, almost ramming into the blonde. "Get off my arse!"
"I never have before!" Dracaena's laugh cut through the wind noise like a knife.
Harri snarled and jerked her broom vertical to spiral higher over the pitch, until it felt like she could touch the sun. Dracaena moved with her, a double helix of scarlet and green Quidditch robes that set the crowd to cheering. The thin air burned her lungs, threatening to strangle her as she pushed higher and higher.
It didn't take long to pass above anything either of them had attempted before in a match. The snitch seldom flew as high as they'd gotten, so there'd never been a need. When she finally reached her limit, Harri locked her knees around the broom shaft and took her hands off the handle.
She plummeted.
The crowd screamed below, getting closer with every second. Adrenaline was a sparkling glow in her veins, sharpening every sensation to a razor-fine edge. Dracaena chased after her, eyes huge as she tried to catch up. The flight spells on her broom, nothing compared to the power of gravity, were her enemy in the race. She fell farther and farther behind as Harri fell even faster, reaching free fall half-way down. Her mouth framed what were probably acid-tongued curses about suicidal Gryffindors.
The ground raced up, a looming thing the grew larger with every breath. Just as it was almost too late, Harri grabbed the broom handle and turned it to face downward. The Firebolt shuddered as it fought the pull of gravity, eventually leveling out so close to the ground that the grass burned her knees. She pulled up, still going far faster than magic alone could go. The trick had worked; Dracaena was far behind, pulling out of her own dive. Deadlock broken, Harri returned her attention to searching for the bright gold of the snitch.
From then on, the match was more normal between the two of them. Both flew without the tricks they’d been playing before, and if Dracaena seemed distracted she didn’t let it interfere with the game. Eventually, Harri caught the Snitch in a close race with Dracaena, winning the game for Gryffindor by only ten points. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as she landed, little ball of gold held high.
An ugly scowl curled Dracaena's face, which was absolutely red with fury. In six years of competition, she'd never beaten Harri to the snitch, and now it was unlikely she'd ever get the chance again. Giving Harri only the chilliest of looks, she stormed off to the lockers, back straight and stiff.
Harri understood her anger in a dim way, but recognized it as more of an indication that their not-relationship was off. Again. It took all the fun out of winning. Disheartened, sweat-soaked and sore, head aching as her vision threatened to waver, she waved at the packed stands half-heartedly and trudged after the rest of the team.
***
Over the years of predictable victory, the Gryffindors developed a pattern for winning game days. First accept the accolades, then it was off the pitch and to the locker rooms for a shower and the usual celebration.
At least, that had been the usual plan.
Harri trailed along with her teammates back to the lockers, burned knees stinging badly enough to slow her down. Before she could round the corner to follow them into the locker room, a gloved hand reached out and pulled her behind the building. The other hand covered her mouth, muffling her shout of surprise. The person shoved her up against the rough stone wall, pinning her with a soft body clad in Slytherin green Quidditch robes.
...Malfoy...
Hearing the voice from her dreams sent a shock through Harri that not even Dracaena could completely distract her from. The blonde's figure against hers was a distant memory, hazed behind the mirrors that superimposed themselves on the real world.
A figure pounded on the inside of one of them. Behind the wind-ruffled mess of her hair, Harri stared into a pair of teeth-rattling familiar green eyes.
Dracaena removed her hand, immediately replacing it with her lips. It drug the tomboy Gryffindor back to reality as nothing else ever could. She kissed her so hard that her head slammed into the wall. Harri opened her mouth to protest, or perhaps to yell in pain, but teeth sunk into her bottom lip before she could. The Slytherin seeker ravaged her mouth, leaving teeth marks and bruises. All the while, she kept Harri pinned against the wall so she couldn’t escape.
In between kisses, Dracaena managed simple sentences. "Idiot!" Bite. "Never again!" Kiss. "I'll kill you!" Slam. Needless to say, Harri was torn between feeling wanted and quite abused.
Eventually though, even Black fury ran out in favor of post-game exhaustion. The blonde leaned up against Harri, using her body weight to keep her in place. Feeling bruised and battered but more cheerful than she had in weeks, Harri just held Dracaena while the other girl fought the inevitable tears.
To her credit, the tears never came. Instead, Dracaena's level of upset manifested only as a fine trembling in her voice. "Never do that to me again." She pressed her face into Harri's neck, nails biting into the other girl's shoulders. "I thought I was going to lose you."
A protest of some sort seemed in order. "I pulled up in time."
"You might not have!" Dracaena's grip grew tighter, clinging hard enough that her nails were sure to leave little crescent bruises. "That falling trick couldn't have been more thick-witted if you'd been both Crabbe AND Goyle! You might have splattered yourself all over in icky red smears and I never said—" She broke off, face red with all sorts of emotions Harri was inexplicably touched to not understand in the slightest. In a softer tone, she finished, "I never said everything I want to say."
Something thrilled through Harri, warm and floaty like and unlike too much butterbeer on an empty stomach. It may have even been better than sex, not that she was thinking much on that particular comparison. "I..." She fought for words to say, feeling more awkward than ever before in her life. "I haven't either."
Dracaena pulled away, gray eyes red-rimmed but dry, cheeks blazing red with fading fury. Fly-away hairs tangled around her head in a wind-snarled halo. Mirrors tried to shiver in existence just outside Harri's peripheral view. She forced herself to focus on Dracaena until they vanished again. Slowly, like the blonde would bolt if she moved quickly, Harri pulled the other girl towards her and into a soft kiss. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat, somewhere between a purr and a whimper, and melted into Harri. The world faded away as it always did when they were together.
The kiss was different than usual. There was much less rolling around on whatever surface came available, for one. Also a noticeable falling in levels of pure animal lust, though it was present in a very definite way. Dracaena leaned against her, pliant and warm, and for once neither were trying to prove herself the better woman in some way. All in all, Harri decided that this new form of kissing was nice in its own way and not to be squandered.
"Harri? Where are— oh. Oh."
And the world snapped back again as they broke apart. Ronnie stared at them, cheeks pinking at an alarming rate. Her shirt was damp around the collar from her hair, and she hadn't done up her robes after her shower. "I— I—" Then she did what Harri had never seen Ronnie do in all their years of friendship.
She fainted.
***
"What were you thinking?" Ronnie's voice was clearly audible over the length of the Quidditch pitch once she awoke from her stupor. Dracaena had made a dignified exit, citing improbable things she had to do to a Mandrake and some Arcadian Firemoss.
Harri was left facing her horrified best friend all alone. She wasn't sure to be grateful or to feel abandoned. Automatically, her hands rose to push up her glasses in a nervous habit. It was disconcerting to discover that they were already as high up her nose as they could get. "I wasn't! I usually don't!"
This was not, in retrospect, the best of arguments.
"Usually?" the redhead screamed. Her face was turning a freshly-scrubbed shade of purple that definitely clashed with her hair. "This is a regular thing?"
"Er?" Again with the glasses, with the same result. People were wandering out of the lockers and from out of the bushes, attracted by Ronnie's yells. "Maybe?"
"Since when?" Ronnie pressed right up close to her face. Harri resisted the urge to step back, telling herself sternly that not even her best friend had a right to yell at her. She did resist leaning in closer, gracefully avoiding the large bust Ronnie used like a battering ram.
"It's none of your business!" People were whispering to themselves in the small crowd. Hermes was somewhere in there, a puff of curly brown hair visible above the shrubbery and gawkers.
"Since when have you been shagging Dracaena sodding Black?"
The whispers cut off. A crack broke the silence as Harri's palm connected with Ronnie's cheek. Furious green eyes glared from behind bulky glasses, threatening angry tears.
Ronnie's blue eyes had widened to incredible proportions, cheek already redding and turning to bruise. "Merlin, Harri, I'm sorry—"
Feeling as though she had to force every word out, Harri hissed, "Thank you, Veronica. This is just the way I wanted to come out." Hermes finally worked his way through the crowd and seemed about ready to say something, but Harri pushed her way past. In the complete silence of Ronnie's revelation, her imagination painted in the sentence on every person's lips.
"The Girl-Who-Lived is a dyke?"
***
It figured, Harri told herself, that when she needed her friends the most, Ronnie went and did something thick enough to sculpt. Green eyes stayed in the back of her mind as she pretended to eat, as they had for the entire day. More than once, mirrors threatened to overwhelm her senses. Even when they didn't, their faint outlines stayed in the corner of her eyes, just beyond the edge of her glasses. She hovered on the verge of telling Dumbledore, but she wanted the fight with Ronnie fixed before diving headfirst into another of Volde's schemes.
Harri glared at her plate, which was emptier than usual. Her dinner didn't glare back, but she felt fairly certain it would have had it the ability. Since the debacle of the Quidditch match earlier, neither of her best friends had approached her. Hermes seemed to think they were "giving her space". She didn't really care why they were, too busy ducking away from the disgusted looks cast her way by her classmates.
In accordance with the current estrangement between herself and her friends, Harri sat at the far end of Gryffindor table at meals. The first years were in mild awe of her, but she found that ignoring them worked well. If rumors about her sexuality had spread this far, they'd been dismissed and so never reached her ears. Or maybe the first years just didn't know what "lesbian" meant. Maybe she could convince them that it was a type of pudding.
Her pathetic inner ramblings were interrupted as the doors to the Great Hall slammed open so loudly that Harri imagined she heard the walls crack.
"Veronica Prewett!" The Voice of Doom granted by Sonorous actually threatened to shatter the glass pitchers of pumpkin juice. Ronnie didn't cower, which only made it easier for Dracaena to locate her at the table and storm over. Her porcelain-fine skin had blotched to an ugly orange-red that boded no good for the object of her anger.
Harri moved to stop the coming scene, but glass shards cracked into place around her, spinning the world within fragmented green eyes. They captured her in place. The Great Hall suddenly seemed like the images in a telly, flat and distant and unreachable.
Ronnie's form flickered wildly, growing taller and slimmer and older and younger all at once in a way that throbbed through Harri's head. Hermes and Dracaena did the same, always themselves, but overlaid with someone close enough to be their twin in all but details. Ronnie's lips moved to say something, but Dracaena struck, forgoing the more feminine open-handed slap for a right-hook. The freckled redhead toppled backwards over the bench like a dead dragon. Dracaena stood over her fallen form, fist still clenched, eyes wide as if she'd surprised herself. The Dark Mark slithered into place on her forearm, transparent sickly black and fragmented like the mirrors themselves.
With a silent smash, the world shattered back to normal, the Mark vanishing from Dracaena like the hallucination it was. Harri didn't realize she'd stopped breathing until the first sweet breath of air rushed into her lungs.
The tableau didn't last as every student in the Hall started yelling all at once, pushing each other for the best view as they crowded around. Hermes scrambled to place himself between them, defending his girlfriend, arms spread to make a human shield. Harri fought frightened first years to make her way over before the Professors sorted themselves out from the milling babbling mass of students. The children clung like terrified leeches, slowing her progress to a crawl. Every limb throbbed and shook, making it hard to win herself free of the younger students. Finally, finally, her fingers closed around Dracaena's wrist just as the Slytherin grabbed her wand. She pulled it out of her hand, holding it out of reach. "Don't!"
"You know—" Dracaena snapped her mouth shut when her words rebounded across the Hall, spell still in effect. Grimacing, one of her hands pointed at her throat indignantly, unwilling to speak loud enough for the entire country to hear.
Harri aimed the wand at her girlfriend's throat, privately grateful that she could use Dracaena's wand marginally. It had occurred to her that Dracaena wasn't adverse to strangling her friend if she left go long enough to grab her own wand. "Quietus." The wand sparked red rebelliously, but cast the spell.
Dracaena's eyes were red-rimmed, mascara smeared around the corners, but she didn't try to reclaim her wand or escape. "You know what that bitch did! She deserved a lot more than just a curse!"
"I do." Every head in the Hall turned to the fallen Prewett, who now sported a blackening eye to go with the bruise on her cheek. "Let her curse me Harri. I deserve it."
"There will be no cursing of anyone, deserved or not." Dumbledore parted the students around her like they were exceptionally high grass. Stooping just a bit, the old woman picked Ronnie up by her elbow and helped her to her feet as easily as if she'd been a tenth her age. Her eyes zeroed in on Harri's ashen face. Even while struggling to stay standing, she left unreasonably certain that Dumbledore knew all her secrets. "I believe we must talk."
Harri nodded once, and then promptly passed out.
***
She was back in the dream, but this time she wasn't alone. Staring back at her, form spanning all the different miniature universes of mirrors, floated a person. A very male, very naked person. Yelping, she spun around and covered her eyes, cheeks hot with embarrassment. It was about that time she noticed her own lack of clothing. Shame very nearly finished what Volde had started sixteen years prior.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice bounced off the glass, seeming to absorb into it bit by bit, until all the echoes were gone. "And don't look at me!"
I don't want to! As if her glimpse of (moderately ew) male bits hadn't be confirmation enough, the voice in her head rumbled in a low tenor. Who are you?
"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking that?" She risked a minute peek over her shoulder, relieved to see the boy's back turned before looking away again. The mirrors behind her didn't reflect anything, thankfully. Now that she was noticing anything but the other person, the fact that there were three roughly irregular walls struck her as odd. She brushed it off. "I'm Harri Evans."
Harri Evans? The boy sounded startled. That's impossible!
"What's so impossible about it?" The warm comforting fizz of anger pushed away the embarrassment of being nude around a member of the opposite sex. Suspicion crept around in the back of her head, but she stored it. Dumbledore would have to hear about this. "It was my Dad's family name."
As though in explanation, the boy commented, My name's Harry Potter.
"That was my Mum's maiden name! Jamie Potter-Evans!" Nudity completely forgotten, she whirled. The boy was still facing away, but his head was topped with an unmistakable head of unruly black hair, chopped even shorter than her own. "Turn around and face me!"
He did. She wasn't wearing her glasses, but her sight held clear regardless. Keeping her eyes well above the waist, she inspected him. They were exactly the same, down to the thin white stripe left by Uncle Patrick's belt over their left shoulders. Most telling of all, the curse scar left by Volde scratched itself into his brow, just like hers, except his blazed red like a fresh wound. It even bled a few crimson droplets as she watched.
"You're me!"
You're me!
Harry stared into her own eyes, slightly smaller with thinner lashes, and the world shivered and vanished around her again.
***
Reality never returned from holiday in a quiet manner, Harri was beginning to understand. It always came back loud, obnoxious and painful. Upon opening her eyes, her head swam and pounded and danced the tango all at once. Overly-bright light glared down into the recesses of her brain, touching every nerve with white-hot pain. She slammed her eyes shut, but the damage had already been done, leaving her with a migraine. Even her eyelashes hurt. Someone pressed a glass against her lips. She drank, hoping that it was a headache cure or, failing that, a fast-acting poison.
The pain receded, letting the rest of the world filter through her senses unimpeded. Someone had moved her to the infirmary, since only the hospital beds were graced with that unique blend of antiseptic and chocolate. People around her were murmuring, but no one spoke loudly enough to understand.
Her pillow had a heartbeat and smelled of expensive perfume. She opened her eyes again. Dracaena peered down at her, close enough to see almost clearly without her glasses. Her white-blonde hair had fallen out of its intricate curl of braids in places, getting in her eyes and Harri’s. She looked like a worried angel, whispering, "Are you alright?" The electric blue potion trembled as Dracaena set it on the bedside table next to a black blob that was probably Harri's glasses.
Harri took stock of her situation. Her headache had vanished completely with the potion. She didn't feel like she'd taken any damage from the fainting spell. No one else seemed to have noticed that she was awake. Best of all, Dracaena was wrapped around her like she'd never let go. "Perfect." She leaned her head on Dracaena's shoulder again for emphasis, reveling in the gorgeous smile she received in return.
Someone cleared their throat. A white-topped violet blur she assumed to be Dumbledore hovered pointedly at the foot of the bed. "Harriette, my dear girl..." The blur seemed to be at a loss for words. Dracaena's arms tightened possessively.
"Don't 'my dear girl' me, you old bat," the Girl-Who-Lived snapped, annoyed at having a perfectly sweet moment with her girlfriend interrupted. It was suddenly easy to remember why she didn't like talking to Dumbledore, necessary or not. "My name's Harri. Use it." The wood of the bedside table was rough under her palm as she felt for her glasses, trying not to take her eyes off the meddling crone. Dracaena reached with her, grabbing them before she could and popping them on her nose as though she did it all the time.
The violet thing was indeed Dumbledore, features drawn and tense. Behind her were Ronnie and Hermes, the more sober colors of their clothing blending them into the rest of the room. Ronnie's face turned down to stare at her shoes, but Harri thought it looked like her eyes was still blackened. She wondered why. Hermes just smiled reassurance, optimistic as ever. Doctor Pomphrey was nowhere in evidence, which was a little bit of a relief.
"Now, Harriette" Dumbledore continued lightly, stroking the front of her robes as though it were a beard, "your name is a fine one, and using a boy's name is entirely inappropriate." Her eyes flickered to the hovering blonde. "Most especially in light of certain revelations."
"I've told you before, it's my name and I'll go by whatever I want to." She took in the Headmistress's disapproving frown and added, "Me being bisexual has nothing to do with it."
"Of course not," the old woman agreed, tone patronizing. "Nor can your recent contrariness be attributed to your companions of late.
Just as Harri really started to flare up, Dracaena spoke up behind her. "Do you want something, or are you going to tell us why my Harri fainted?"
"Exhaustion." Everyone turned to see the Doctor bustling out of his reference closet. His slightly chubby frame was almost completely hidden behind a tome bigger than anything Harri had ever seen, including Hermes' personal library. He set the book down on a table and hurried over, round face smiling. "Though I can't understand why. Your friends say you've been sleeping, and no one seems to have noticed a change in your diet or routine. It's quite a puzzle." His hazel eyes focused on Dracaena. "She needed the headache ease after all?"
Dracaena nodded, hair brushing Harri's cheek. "She opened her eyes and moaned. It sounded like pain to me."
"I felt like my head was turning inside out," Harri admitted.
"I rather suspected something of the sort. No classes for you tomorrow, young lady, and only light work until we find where all that energy of yours is going. I'll speak with your instructors." On his fingers, he ticked off points. "No late-nights, no exhaustive sports though you may attempt light flying should you feel up to it. As low of stress levels as possible and no extensive sexual activities." Pomphrey eyes Dracaena. "I expect you to hold her to that last one, Miss Black."
Absolutely everyone in the room blushed, including Dumbledore. Harri thought it might be more of a flush of annoyance than embarrassment. "Really now, the rules say—" she began, but Pomphrey cut her off.
"You can't be naïve enough to think that school rules mean a thing to children in love." His voice was low and pleasant, but stern. "I uphold school regulations, but I'm certainly not going to deny that it happens. Be grateful I don't, or many more students would be sent home in disgrace."
Pomphrey, Harri reminded herself, could be scary when he wanted to be. Even Dumbledore was cowed.
"The orders regarding stress are being implemented as of now," the doctor continued, as though he'd never given Dumbledore a dressing-down. "That means any of you who intend to confront either Miss Black or Miss Evans on the nature of their relationship can scat."
Dumbledore stood up straighter, eyes narrowed, but nodded. All traces of her usual façade of the eccentric old woman were gone. "Harriette, please come see me as soon as you feel well. We have things of which we must talk."
"Yeah, we do," Harri agreed.
"Rest well." With that, the Headmistress strode from the room, robes flowing behind her.
Pomphrey looked at Ronnie and Hermes. Ronnie never looked up, but Hermes shook his head. "We'd like to stay for a bit, if it's all right?"
"As long as Miss Evans agrees." Waving his hand at the giant book, the doctor smiled sheepishly. "I'll be in my office researching possible causes for Miss Evans' malady if you need me." He left, humming cheerily under his breath.
Harri stared at her old friends, barely aware of Dracaena's arms wrapped around her shoulders. They were finally alone.
God help her.
***
No matter how many times she'd imagined having this discussion with her friends, Harri found herself at a loss for words. No one seemed willing to help start things. Ronnie stared at her shoes, eye fading towards reddish purple far surpassing the only slightly bruised cheek Harri had given her before. Her orange-red hair straggled across her cheeks, sticking slightly like she'd been crying. Hermes fidgeted and looked around as though suddenly realizing that he was about to drown in estrogen.
Remembering the boy in her dream, Harri wondered if there was a girl-Hermes running around somewhere. A completely inappropriate snigger broke through her locked lips. All eyes in the room fixed on her. She waved their questioning expressions off, laughter dying. "Nothing. I'll explain later."
Dracaena huffed, pressing her cheek against Harri's from behind. "Only you would laugh at a time like this," she commented fondly. "Gryffindor."
Ronnie stared at them like they'd merged into a two-headed hydra. Harri ignored her, twisting her head to meet the blonde's eyes. "You're no better, Slytherin."
Her girlfriend only smiled and kissed her jaw. "I can leave." Her breath tickled the hair at the back of Harri's neck. She'd pitched her voice low, but loud enough to carry. "If they promise not to upset you."
It was tempting. Ronnie and Hermes would be more relaxed without the "opposition" in evidence, but nothing good could come of pushing Dracaena away whenever something involved her friends. "You belong here." Settling back against Dracaena, she faced her friends.
The torch light danced in Ronnie's hair as she shook her head. "I owe you an apology too anyways, so you'd better stay, Black."
The raised eyebrow Harri couldn't see was evident in Dracaena's sarcastic drawl. "Oh really?"
"Yeah." Good eye darting to Hermes, then back to the couple on the bed, Ronnie bulled forward in true Prewett style. "I was wrong to blurt that out like that in public. I wasn't thinking. It was an accident." Her hands twisted her tie nervously. "Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I've got any right to do that. I'm sorry."
Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Harri nodded. "Apology accepted. I should have told you sooner, but..." Her shoulders moved in a shrug. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it."
As if the words were being dragged from her, Dracaena drawled, "If Harri can forgive you, then so can I. Try not to do it again. Veronica."
A smile broke on Ronnie's face, quickly but ineffectively shuffled away under a mask of annoyance. "I'll do that, Dracaena."
In a long-withheld eruption, Hermes' self restraint broke. "How long has this been going on? Why Black? I know you've called a cease-fire since fourth year, but this is really weird." His brown eyes were huge in his face as the questions poured out. "Why a girl? I thought you liked boys. Have you told Sirrah yet? Whose side is she on? What—"
"One at a time!" For all the indignity of it, Harri couldn't stop from laughing a little. "Since last year, I don't know why her," she ignored Dracaena's squawk, "I like both, no and—"
"Harri's side, obviously," Dracaena cut in, palm sliding over Harri's mouth. "As if that whole mess in fifth year and saving scarhead here from the rat weren't evidence enough, it's terribly hard to justify working for a man who's out to kill the person you're currently shagging. Especially when she—"
While Hermes' face appeared all-too intrigued, Ronnie turned a delicate shade of green. "Please. No more," she groaned. "I'm sorry he asked."
Mouth turned down in a frown, Hermes glanced from Ronnie to Harri and back again. "Now that you're out of the closet, so to speak, is there anything else you want to tell us? Like maybe why you collapsed like that?"
"... I don't know?" Harri tried for an honest smile, not the least bit surprised when Ronnie seemed skeptical.
"Do I look stupid?" Hermes asked, arms crossed. "You're hiding something. Tell us."
Harri looked around for support, but didn't even find it in her girlfriend. "Come on... it's nothing. Really."
"You've been acting weird," the blonde shrugged. "Better to have it out now. You know how often little things come back to bite you on the arse."
"Please?"
The pleading hitch in her best friend's voice broke down the last bit of stubbornness Harri had to cling to. She leaned back into Dracaena. "Fine. It started a few weeks ago. My eyes doing weird things..."
***
"That's wicked." Ronnie leaned against the headboard. Sometime during Harri's account of her dreams, she's taken up residence at the foot of the hospital bed. Dracaena had nudged her knee aside a bit, but otherwise seemed fine with the encroachment on her territory (Harri).
Hermes had found a chair, and now leaned forward in it. "And you're positive that the boy looked just like you? Not just similar?" Thoughts flashed behind his eyes so fast Harri could only guess at what he was mentally referencing. The boy was a walking encyclopedia. "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been awfully quiet lately. Maybe this is a new plan."
"We even had the same scars on our knees," she confirmed. "I'm pretty sure he wasn't Volde." Everyone winced at the name. "He seemed as confused as I was, and one thing she wouldn't do is even pretend at a moment of weakness."
Dracaena nodded her agreement. "That's what Mother always said. Even when she's weak, the Dark Lady's strong enough to put on a front of strength."
Ronnie's socked foot nudged the Slytherin. "Only you could make that sound like a compliment."
"It's meant to be. Any intelligent person would know as much."
"If you say so, Ferret."
"I do, you chimp."
"What did you call me?"
"What about your Occlumency?" Hermes seemed determined to act as though the Prewett and Black weren't jabbing each other with verbal pencils. "Have you tried that to keep the dream away?"
"In a way..." Harri vacillated. "That is to say, not really."
"Start." It clearly was meant to be an order. Hermes would make someone a great Mum one day. It was great, because Ronnie was barely capable of not poisoning herself at the breakfast table, much less anything as strenuous as cooking. "And tell Dumbledore." Harri grumbled under her breath. "I know you haven't liked the woman much lately, but she's your best hope for things like this."
"I know." And as much as she hated it, she did know. "I'll tell her as soon as she gets over the gay thing."
"Good idea." Hermes stood. "Come on Ronnie—"
"—not do that with vegetables!" the Prewett was saying in a low hiss.
Dracaena visibly struggled not to laugh. "You said—"
"I didn't mean it that way! Slut!"
"Harri's slut to you, furball."
"Veronica! Dracaena!" Both girls turned to Harri, distracted from their fight. "I'm tired," the brunette announced, pulling the only card she knew would work on them both. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh, yeah, sorry." Ronnie slipped off the mattress. "Good night."
"Good nigh—" She didn't even get to finish the phrase before Dracaena grabbed her shin and twisted her head, lips descending. Harri's bones turned to liquid almost immediately. All she could do was grab Dracaena's shoulders and pray she wouldn't fall off the bed. Somewhere in the room, Hermes could be heard trying to swallow his own tongue until Ronnie finally dragged him out of the room.
When they finally parted, the only thing Harri could think of was that Dracaena had a very nice way of saying "mine!".
Part 02
GWL Arc
By
tsukinofaeriiRating: SNIP
Alternate Timeline/Generic
Warnings: Profane, Violent, Sexual, female/female, male/male
Spoilers: Book canon Half-Blood Prince
Series: Harry Potter
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Harry/Draco
Summary: Dreams of a new sort are plaguing Harri, combined with strange hallucinations of people who could almost be familiar. Is this a new ploy sent by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or is a deeper game in motion? The answer is just on the other side of her dreams. Complete short story.
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Harry Potter was created and is owned by J.K. Rowling. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
Harri groaned and hid under the covers as her bed curtains were yanked back viciously.
"Harri!" Her blankets were pulled away next, leaving her in her pajamas. "Up and out! It's Saturday!" Denise grinned at her, teeth incredibly white against her dark skin.
"Exactly!" Eyes squinted against the blinding morning sun through the tower windows, Harri groped for her blankets.
"But it's game day," Ronnie reminded her from the next bed over. She was already dressed in her Quidditch gear.
Nothing registered immediately in Harri's dream-fogged brain. "Game day? What..?" Finally the information leaked down to her conscious. "The game!" She rolled out of bed, feet hitting the stone floor already moving for her trunk. From habit, she didn't look at the too-empty bed on the far side of the room. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"We did," Denise answered. "I'm going to join Seanna downstairs. See you at breakfast."
"Bye!" Harri wasn't paying attention, head down in her trunk and trying to keep from falling in. Ronnie seemed oblivious to her predicament, adjusting her Quidditch robes in the mirror to display the Team Captain's badge to best effect before heading down to wait in the common room.
In the week since the canceled Quidditch match, Harri had been dreaming of mirrors every night and some daylight hours, without the creepy voice luckily. Every time the dream seemed more and more realistic and more fascinating. She'd found that if she tried to look beyond her own reflection in the mirrors, there was a different view beyond them all. She could spend a whole night exploring every angle if she let herself. One of them even showed her own place. That part was odd, more like a thin layer of some kind of membrane than glass. She could push through it of she tried, but that was the only one. Still, the whole place seemed pretty innocent. Since they obviously had nothing to do with Volde, she didn't even tell Hermes or Ronnie.
Not to say that she wouldn't tell them if something changed, but she swore she'd tell Dumbledore first. She wasn't going to risk her friends again. Losing Neve had been more than enough.
The autumn sky was a clear, shining robins-egg blue, touched with a few fluffy bits of cloud that scurried over the Quidditch pitch. Ronnie knocked gloves with Stevic Harlow, the Slytherin Captain. Professor Hooch explained the game, as usual, while the teams arranged themselves for take off.
Harri barely paid any attention to the proceedings. Her eyes were only for Dracaena, at the back of the Slytherin team. They hadn't talked the incident, but that wasn't unusual in their strange on-again off-again maybe-relationship. For a moment, Harri's head reeled and the air shimmered like sunlight on a mirror. It looked like the blonde had cut her hair and slicked it back, echoing something just out of memory. But on a second look she saw that Dracaena's hair was intact, just pulled back into a severe ponytail and then braided. It made her self-assured smirk sharper without cascades of curls to soften it.
The whistle broke the clear sky, shrill and sharp. Harri and Dracaena shot straight into the air, parallel blurs flying so close their ankles brushed. Below them the quaffle passed between teams at a blinding pace. The seekers didn't notice or care, battling each other in a midair ballet, matching dive for dive in a race for the snitch.
Harri swore as Dracaena refused to be shaken off her tail after twenty minutes of effort. An attempted Wronski Feint only pulled Dracaena closer to her tail. She swerved sharply, almost ramming into the blonde. "Get off my arse!"
"I never have before!" Dracaena's laugh cut through the wind noise like a knife.
Harri snarled and jerked her broom vertical to spiral higher over the pitch, until it felt like she could touch the sun. Dracaena moved with her, a double helix of scarlet and green Quidditch robes that set the crowd to cheering. The thin air burned her lungs, threatening to strangle her as she pushed higher and higher.
It didn't take long to pass above anything either of them had attempted before in a match. The snitch seldom flew as high as they'd gotten, so there'd never been a need. When she finally reached her limit, Harri locked her knees around the broom shaft and took her hands off the handle.
She plummeted.
The crowd screamed below, getting closer with every second. Adrenaline was a sparkling glow in her veins, sharpening every sensation to a razor-fine edge. Dracaena chased after her, eyes huge as she tried to catch up. The flight spells on her broom, nothing compared to the power of gravity, were her enemy in the race. She fell farther and farther behind as Harri fell even faster, reaching free fall half-way down. Her mouth framed what were probably acid-tongued curses about suicidal Gryffindors.
The ground raced up, a looming thing the grew larger with every breath. Just as it was almost too late, Harri grabbed the broom handle and turned it to face downward. The Firebolt shuddered as it fought the pull of gravity, eventually leveling out so close to the ground that the grass burned her knees. She pulled up, still going far faster than magic alone could go. The trick had worked; Dracaena was far behind, pulling out of her own dive. Deadlock broken, Harri returned her attention to searching for the bright gold of the snitch.
From then on, the match was more normal between the two of them. Both flew without the tricks they’d been playing before, and if Dracaena seemed distracted she didn’t let it interfere with the game. Eventually, Harri caught the Snitch in a close race with Dracaena, winning the game for Gryffindor by only ten points. The cheers of the crowd were deafening as she landed, little ball of gold held high.
An ugly scowl curled Dracaena's face, which was absolutely red with fury. In six years of competition, she'd never beaten Harri to the snitch, and now it was unlikely she'd ever get the chance again. Giving Harri only the chilliest of looks, she stormed off to the lockers, back straight and stiff.
Harri understood her anger in a dim way, but recognized it as more of an indication that their not-relationship was off. Again. It took all the fun out of winning. Disheartened, sweat-soaked and sore, head aching as her vision threatened to waver, she waved at the packed stands half-heartedly and trudged after the rest of the team.
Over the years of predictable victory, the Gryffindors developed a pattern for winning game days. First accept the accolades, then it was off the pitch and to the locker rooms for a shower and the usual celebration.
At least, that had been the usual plan.
Harri trailed along with her teammates back to the lockers, burned knees stinging badly enough to slow her down. Before she could round the corner to follow them into the locker room, a gloved hand reached out and pulled her behind the building. The other hand covered her mouth, muffling her shout of surprise. The person shoved her up against the rough stone wall, pinning her with a soft body clad in Slytherin green Quidditch robes.
...Malfoy...
Hearing the voice from her dreams sent a shock through Harri that not even Dracaena could completely distract her from. The blonde's figure against hers was a distant memory, hazed behind the mirrors that superimposed themselves on the real world.
A figure pounded on the inside of one of them. Behind the wind-ruffled mess of her hair, Harri stared into a pair of teeth-rattling familiar green eyes.
Dracaena removed her hand, immediately replacing it with her lips. It drug the tomboy Gryffindor back to reality as nothing else ever could. She kissed her so hard that her head slammed into the wall. Harri opened her mouth to protest, or perhaps to yell in pain, but teeth sunk into her bottom lip before she could. The Slytherin seeker ravaged her mouth, leaving teeth marks and bruises. All the while, she kept Harri pinned against the wall so she couldn’t escape.
In between kisses, Dracaena managed simple sentences. "Idiot!" Bite. "Never again!" Kiss. "I'll kill you!" Slam. Needless to say, Harri was torn between feeling wanted and quite abused.
Eventually though, even Black fury ran out in favor of post-game exhaustion. The blonde leaned up against Harri, using her body weight to keep her in place. Feeling bruised and battered but more cheerful than she had in weeks, Harri just held Dracaena while the other girl fought the inevitable tears.
To her credit, the tears never came. Instead, Dracaena's level of upset manifested only as a fine trembling in her voice. "Never do that to me again." She pressed her face into Harri's neck, nails biting into the other girl's shoulders. "I thought I was going to lose you."
A protest of some sort seemed in order. "I pulled up in time."
"You might not have!" Dracaena's grip grew tighter, clinging hard enough that her nails were sure to leave little crescent bruises. "That falling trick couldn't have been more thick-witted if you'd been both Crabbe AND Goyle! You might have splattered yourself all over in icky red smears and I never said—" She broke off, face red with all sorts of emotions Harri was inexplicably touched to not understand in the slightest. In a softer tone, she finished, "I never said everything I want to say."
Something thrilled through Harri, warm and floaty like and unlike too much butterbeer on an empty stomach. It may have even been better than sex, not that she was thinking much on that particular comparison. "I..." She fought for words to say, feeling more awkward than ever before in her life. "I haven't either."
Dracaena pulled away, gray eyes red-rimmed but dry, cheeks blazing red with fading fury. Fly-away hairs tangled around her head in a wind-snarled halo. Mirrors tried to shiver in existence just outside Harri's peripheral view. She forced herself to focus on Dracaena until they vanished again. Slowly, like the blonde would bolt if she moved quickly, Harri pulled the other girl towards her and into a soft kiss. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat, somewhere between a purr and a whimper, and melted into Harri. The world faded away as it always did when they were together.
The kiss was different than usual. There was much less rolling around on whatever surface came available, for one. Also a noticeable falling in levels of pure animal lust, though it was present in a very definite way. Dracaena leaned against her, pliant and warm, and for once neither were trying to prove herself the better woman in some way. All in all, Harri decided that this new form of kissing was nice in its own way and not to be squandered.
"Harri? Where are— oh. Oh."
And the world snapped back again as they broke apart. Ronnie stared at them, cheeks pinking at an alarming rate. Her shirt was damp around the collar from her hair, and she hadn't done up her robes after her shower. "I— I—" Then she did what Harri had never seen Ronnie do in all their years of friendship.
She fainted.
"What were you thinking?" Ronnie's voice was clearly audible over the length of the Quidditch pitch once she awoke from her stupor. Dracaena had made a dignified exit, citing improbable things she had to do to a Mandrake and some Arcadian Firemoss.
Harri was left facing her horrified best friend all alone. She wasn't sure to be grateful or to feel abandoned. Automatically, her hands rose to push up her glasses in a nervous habit. It was disconcerting to discover that they were already as high up her nose as they could get. "I wasn't! I usually don't!"
This was not, in retrospect, the best of arguments.
"Usually?" the redhead screamed. Her face was turning a freshly-scrubbed shade of purple that definitely clashed with her hair. "This is a regular thing?"
"Er?" Again with the glasses, with the same result. People were wandering out of the lockers and from out of the bushes, attracted by Ronnie's yells. "Maybe?"
"Since when?" Ronnie pressed right up close to her face. Harri resisted the urge to step back, telling herself sternly that not even her best friend had a right to yell at her. She did resist leaning in closer, gracefully avoiding the large bust Ronnie used like a battering ram.
"It's none of your business!" People were whispering to themselves in the small crowd. Hermes was somewhere in there, a puff of curly brown hair visible above the shrubbery and gawkers.
"Since when have you been shagging Dracaena sodding Black?"
The whispers cut off. A crack broke the silence as Harri's palm connected with Ronnie's cheek. Furious green eyes glared from behind bulky glasses, threatening angry tears.
Ronnie's blue eyes had widened to incredible proportions, cheek already redding and turning to bruise. "Merlin, Harri, I'm sorry—"
Feeling as though she had to force every word out, Harri hissed, "Thank you, Veronica. This is just the way I wanted to come out." Hermes finally worked his way through the crowd and seemed about ready to say something, but Harri pushed her way past. In the complete silence of Ronnie's revelation, her imagination painted in the sentence on every person's lips.
"The Girl-Who-Lived is a dyke?"
It figured, Harri told herself, that when she needed her friends the most, Ronnie went and did something thick enough to sculpt. Green eyes stayed in the back of her mind as she pretended to eat, as they had for the entire day. More than once, mirrors threatened to overwhelm her senses. Even when they didn't, their faint outlines stayed in the corner of her eyes, just beyond the edge of her glasses. She hovered on the verge of telling Dumbledore, but she wanted the fight with Ronnie fixed before diving headfirst into another of Volde's schemes.
Harri glared at her plate, which was emptier than usual. Her dinner didn't glare back, but she felt fairly certain it would have had it the ability. Since the debacle of the Quidditch match earlier, neither of her best friends had approached her. Hermes seemed to think they were "giving her space". She didn't really care why they were, too busy ducking away from the disgusted looks cast her way by her classmates.
In accordance with the current estrangement between herself and her friends, Harri sat at the far end of Gryffindor table at meals. The first years were in mild awe of her, but she found that ignoring them worked well. If rumors about her sexuality had spread this far, they'd been dismissed and so never reached her ears. Or maybe the first years just didn't know what "lesbian" meant. Maybe she could convince them that it was a type of pudding.
Her pathetic inner ramblings were interrupted as the doors to the Great Hall slammed open so loudly that Harri imagined she heard the walls crack.
"Veronica Prewett!" The Voice of Doom granted by Sonorous actually threatened to shatter the glass pitchers of pumpkin juice. Ronnie didn't cower, which only made it easier for Dracaena to locate her at the table and storm over. Her porcelain-fine skin had blotched to an ugly orange-red that boded no good for the object of her anger.
Harri moved to stop the coming scene, but glass shards cracked into place around her, spinning the world within fragmented green eyes. They captured her in place. The Great Hall suddenly seemed like the images in a telly, flat and distant and unreachable.
Ronnie's form flickered wildly, growing taller and slimmer and older and younger all at once in a way that throbbed through Harri's head. Hermes and Dracaena did the same, always themselves, but overlaid with someone close enough to be their twin in all but details. Ronnie's lips moved to say something, but Dracaena struck, forgoing the more feminine open-handed slap for a right-hook. The freckled redhead toppled backwards over the bench like a dead dragon. Dracaena stood over her fallen form, fist still clenched, eyes wide as if she'd surprised herself. The Dark Mark slithered into place on her forearm, transparent sickly black and fragmented like the mirrors themselves.
With a silent smash, the world shattered back to normal, the Mark vanishing from Dracaena like the hallucination it was. Harri didn't realize she'd stopped breathing until the first sweet breath of air rushed into her lungs.
The tableau didn't last as every student in the Hall started yelling all at once, pushing each other for the best view as they crowded around. Hermes scrambled to place himself between them, defending his girlfriend, arms spread to make a human shield. Harri fought frightened first years to make her way over before the Professors sorted themselves out from the milling babbling mass of students. The children clung like terrified leeches, slowing her progress to a crawl. Every limb throbbed and shook, making it hard to win herself free of the younger students. Finally, finally, her fingers closed around Dracaena's wrist just as the Slytherin grabbed her wand. She pulled it out of her hand, holding it out of reach. "Don't!"
"You know—" Dracaena snapped her mouth shut when her words rebounded across the Hall, spell still in effect. Grimacing, one of her hands pointed at her throat indignantly, unwilling to speak loud enough for the entire country to hear.
Harri aimed the wand at her girlfriend's throat, privately grateful that she could use Dracaena's wand marginally. It had occurred to her that Dracaena wasn't adverse to strangling her friend if she left go long enough to grab her own wand. "Quietus." The wand sparked red rebelliously, but cast the spell.
Dracaena's eyes were red-rimmed, mascara smeared around the corners, but she didn't try to reclaim her wand or escape. "You know what that bitch did! She deserved a lot more than just a curse!"
"I do." Every head in the Hall turned to the fallen Prewett, who now sported a blackening eye to go with the bruise on her cheek. "Let her curse me Harri. I deserve it."
"There will be no cursing of anyone, deserved or not." Dumbledore parted the students around her like they were exceptionally high grass. Stooping just a bit, the old woman picked Ronnie up by her elbow and helped her to her feet as easily as if she'd been a tenth her age. Her eyes zeroed in on Harri's ashen face. Even while struggling to stay standing, she left unreasonably certain that Dumbledore knew all her secrets. "I believe we must talk."
Harri nodded once, and then promptly passed out.
She was back in the dream, but this time she wasn't alone. Staring back at her, form spanning all the different miniature universes of mirrors, floated a person. A very male, very naked person. Yelping, she spun around and covered her eyes, cheeks hot with embarrassment. It was about that time she noticed her own lack of clothing. Shame very nearly finished what Volde had started sixteen years prior.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice bounced off the glass, seeming to absorb into it bit by bit, until all the echoes were gone. "And don't look at me!"
I don't want to! As if her glimpse of (moderately ew) male bits hadn't be confirmation enough, the voice in her head rumbled in a low tenor. Who are you?
"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking that?" She risked a minute peek over her shoulder, relieved to see the boy's back turned before looking away again. The mirrors behind her didn't reflect anything, thankfully. Now that she was noticing anything but the other person, the fact that there were three roughly irregular walls struck her as odd. She brushed it off. "I'm Harri Evans."
Harri Evans? The boy sounded startled. That's impossible!
"What's so impossible about it?" The warm comforting fizz of anger pushed away the embarrassment of being nude around a member of the opposite sex. Suspicion crept around in the back of her head, but she stored it. Dumbledore would have to hear about this. "It was my Dad's family name."
As though in explanation, the boy commented, My name's Harry Potter.
"That was my Mum's maiden name! Jamie Potter-Evans!" Nudity completely forgotten, she whirled. The boy was still facing away, but his head was topped with an unmistakable head of unruly black hair, chopped even shorter than her own. "Turn around and face me!"
He did. She wasn't wearing her glasses, but her sight held clear regardless. Keeping her eyes well above the waist, she inspected him. They were exactly the same, down to the thin white stripe left by Uncle Patrick's belt over their left shoulders. Most telling of all, the curse scar left by Volde scratched itself into his brow, just like hers, except his blazed red like a fresh wound. It even bled a few crimson droplets as she watched.
"You're me!"
You're me!
Harry stared into her own eyes, slightly smaller with thinner lashes, and the world shivered and vanished around her again.
Reality never returned from holiday in a quiet manner, Harri was beginning to understand. It always came back loud, obnoxious and painful. Upon opening her eyes, her head swam and pounded and danced the tango all at once. Overly-bright light glared down into the recesses of her brain, touching every nerve with white-hot pain. She slammed her eyes shut, but the damage had already been done, leaving her with a migraine. Even her eyelashes hurt. Someone pressed a glass against her lips. She drank, hoping that it was a headache cure or, failing that, a fast-acting poison.
The pain receded, letting the rest of the world filter through her senses unimpeded. Someone had moved her to the infirmary, since only the hospital beds were graced with that unique blend of antiseptic and chocolate. People around her were murmuring, but no one spoke loudly enough to understand.
Her pillow had a heartbeat and smelled of expensive perfume. She opened her eyes again. Dracaena peered down at her, close enough to see almost clearly without her glasses. Her white-blonde hair had fallen out of its intricate curl of braids in places, getting in her eyes and Harri’s. She looked like a worried angel, whispering, "Are you alright?" The electric blue potion trembled as Dracaena set it on the bedside table next to a black blob that was probably Harri's glasses.
Harri took stock of her situation. Her headache had vanished completely with the potion. She didn't feel like she'd taken any damage from the fainting spell. No one else seemed to have noticed that she was awake. Best of all, Dracaena was wrapped around her like she'd never let go. "Perfect." She leaned her head on Dracaena's shoulder again for emphasis, reveling in the gorgeous smile she received in return.
Someone cleared their throat. A white-topped violet blur she assumed to be Dumbledore hovered pointedly at the foot of the bed. "Harriette, my dear girl..." The blur seemed to be at a loss for words. Dracaena's arms tightened possessively.
"Don't 'my dear girl' me, you old bat," the Girl-Who-Lived snapped, annoyed at having a perfectly sweet moment with her girlfriend interrupted. It was suddenly easy to remember why she didn't like talking to Dumbledore, necessary or not. "My name's Harri. Use it." The wood of the bedside table was rough under her palm as she felt for her glasses, trying not to take her eyes off the meddling crone. Dracaena reached with her, grabbing them before she could and popping them on her nose as though she did it all the time.
The violet thing was indeed Dumbledore, features drawn and tense. Behind her were Ronnie and Hermes, the more sober colors of their clothing blending them into the rest of the room. Ronnie's face turned down to stare at her shoes, but Harri thought it looked like her eyes was still blackened. She wondered why. Hermes just smiled reassurance, optimistic as ever. Doctor Pomphrey was nowhere in evidence, which was a little bit of a relief.
"Now, Harriette" Dumbledore continued lightly, stroking the front of her robes as though it were a beard, "your name is a fine one, and using a boy's name is entirely inappropriate." Her eyes flickered to the hovering blonde. "Most especially in light of certain revelations."
"I've told you before, it's my name and I'll go by whatever I want to." She took in the Headmistress's disapproving frown and added, "Me being bisexual has nothing to do with it."
"Of course not," the old woman agreed, tone patronizing. "Nor can your recent contrariness be attributed to your companions of late.
Just as Harri really started to flare up, Dracaena spoke up behind her. "Do you want something, or are you going to tell us why my Harri fainted?"
"Exhaustion." Everyone turned to see the Doctor bustling out of his reference closet. His slightly chubby frame was almost completely hidden behind a tome bigger than anything Harri had ever seen, including Hermes' personal library. He set the book down on a table and hurried over, round face smiling. "Though I can't understand why. Your friends say you've been sleeping, and no one seems to have noticed a change in your diet or routine. It's quite a puzzle." His hazel eyes focused on Dracaena. "She needed the headache ease after all?"
Dracaena nodded, hair brushing Harri's cheek. "She opened her eyes and moaned. It sounded like pain to me."
"I felt like my head was turning inside out," Harri admitted.
"I rather suspected something of the sort. No classes for you tomorrow, young lady, and only light work until we find where all that energy of yours is going. I'll speak with your instructors." On his fingers, he ticked off points. "No late-nights, no exhaustive sports though you may attempt light flying should you feel up to it. As low of stress levels as possible and no extensive sexual activities." Pomphrey eyes Dracaena. "I expect you to hold her to that last one, Miss Black."
Absolutely everyone in the room blushed, including Dumbledore. Harri thought it might be more of a flush of annoyance than embarrassment. "Really now, the rules say—" she began, but Pomphrey cut her off.
"You can't be naïve enough to think that school rules mean a thing to children in love." His voice was low and pleasant, but stern. "I uphold school regulations, but I'm certainly not going to deny that it happens. Be grateful I don't, or many more students would be sent home in disgrace."
Pomphrey, Harri reminded herself, could be scary when he wanted to be. Even Dumbledore was cowed.
"The orders regarding stress are being implemented as of now," the doctor continued, as though he'd never given Dumbledore a dressing-down. "That means any of you who intend to confront either Miss Black or Miss Evans on the nature of their relationship can scat."
Dumbledore stood up straighter, eyes narrowed, but nodded. All traces of her usual façade of the eccentric old woman were gone. "Harriette, please come see me as soon as you feel well. We have things of which we must talk."
"Yeah, we do," Harri agreed.
"Rest well." With that, the Headmistress strode from the room, robes flowing behind her.
Pomphrey looked at Ronnie and Hermes. Ronnie never looked up, but Hermes shook his head. "We'd like to stay for a bit, if it's all right?"
"As long as Miss Evans agrees." Waving his hand at the giant book, the doctor smiled sheepishly. "I'll be in my office researching possible causes for Miss Evans' malady if you need me." He left, humming cheerily under his breath.
Harri stared at her old friends, barely aware of Dracaena's arms wrapped around her shoulders. They were finally alone.
God help her.
No matter how many times she'd imagined having this discussion with her friends, Harri found herself at a loss for words. No one seemed willing to help start things. Ronnie stared at her shoes, eye fading towards reddish purple far surpassing the only slightly bruised cheek Harri had given her before. Her orange-red hair straggled across her cheeks, sticking slightly like she'd been crying. Hermes fidgeted and looked around as though suddenly realizing that he was about to drown in estrogen.
Remembering the boy in her dream, Harri wondered if there was a girl-Hermes running around somewhere. A completely inappropriate snigger broke through her locked lips. All eyes in the room fixed on her. She waved their questioning expressions off, laughter dying. "Nothing. I'll explain later."
Dracaena huffed, pressing her cheek against Harri's from behind. "Only you would laugh at a time like this," she commented fondly. "Gryffindor."
Ronnie stared at them like they'd merged into a two-headed hydra. Harri ignored her, twisting her head to meet the blonde's eyes. "You're no better, Slytherin."
Her girlfriend only smiled and kissed her jaw. "I can leave." Her breath tickled the hair at the back of Harri's neck. She'd pitched her voice low, but loud enough to carry. "If they promise not to upset you."
It was tempting. Ronnie and Hermes would be more relaxed without the "opposition" in evidence, but nothing good could come of pushing Dracaena away whenever something involved her friends. "You belong here." Settling back against Dracaena, she faced her friends.
The torch light danced in Ronnie's hair as she shook her head. "I owe you an apology too anyways, so you'd better stay, Black."
The raised eyebrow Harri couldn't see was evident in Dracaena's sarcastic drawl. "Oh really?"
"Yeah." Good eye darting to Hermes, then back to the couple on the bed, Ronnie bulled forward in true Prewett style. "I was wrong to blurt that out like that in public. I wasn't thinking. It was an accident." Her hands twisted her tie nervously. "Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I've got any right to do that. I'm sorry."
Brushing her hair out of her eyes, Harri nodded. "Apology accepted. I should have told you sooner, but..." Her shoulders moved in a shrug. "I wasn't sure how you'd take it."
As if the words were being dragged from her, Dracaena drawled, "If Harri can forgive you, then so can I. Try not to do it again. Veronica."
A smile broke on Ronnie's face, quickly but ineffectively shuffled away under a mask of annoyance. "I'll do that, Dracaena."
In a long-withheld eruption, Hermes' self restraint broke. "How long has this been going on? Why Black? I know you've called a cease-fire since fourth year, but this is really weird." His brown eyes were huge in his face as the questions poured out. "Why a girl? I thought you liked boys. Have you told Sirrah yet? Whose side is she on? What—"
"One at a time!" For all the indignity of it, Harri couldn't stop from laughing a little. "Since last year, I don't know why her," she ignored Dracaena's squawk, "I like both, no and—"
"Harri's side, obviously," Dracaena cut in, palm sliding over Harri's mouth. "As if that whole mess in fifth year and saving scarhead here from the rat weren't evidence enough, it's terribly hard to justify working for a man who's out to kill the person you're currently shagging. Especially when she—"
While Hermes' face appeared all-too intrigued, Ronnie turned a delicate shade of green. "Please. No more," she groaned. "I'm sorry he asked."
Mouth turned down in a frown, Hermes glanced from Ronnie to Harri and back again. "Now that you're out of the closet, so to speak, is there anything else you want to tell us? Like maybe why you collapsed like that?"
"... I don't know?" Harri tried for an honest smile, not the least bit surprised when Ronnie seemed skeptical.
"Do I look stupid?" Hermes asked, arms crossed. "You're hiding something. Tell us."
Harri looked around for support, but didn't even find it in her girlfriend. "Come on... it's nothing. Really."
"You've been acting weird," the blonde shrugged. "Better to have it out now. You know how often little things come back to bite you on the arse."
"Please?"
The pleading hitch in her best friend's voice broke down the last bit of stubbornness Harri had to cling to. She leaned back into Dracaena. "Fine. It started a few weeks ago. My eyes doing weird things..."
"That's wicked." Ronnie leaned against the headboard. Sometime during Harri's account of her dreams, she's taken up residence at the foot of the hospital bed. Dracaena had nudged her knee aside a bit, but otherwise seemed fine with the encroachment on her territory (Harri).
Hermes had found a chair, and now leaned forward in it. "And you're positive that the boy looked just like you? Not just similar?" Thoughts flashed behind his eyes so fast Harri could only guess at what he was mentally referencing. The boy was a walking encyclopedia. "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been awfully quiet lately. Maybe this is a new plan."
"We even had the same scars on our knees," she confirmed. "I'm pretty sure he wasn't Volde." Everyone winced at the name. "He seemed as confused as I was, and one thing she wouldn't do is even pretend at a moment of weakness."
Dracaena nodded her agreement. "That's what Mother always said. Even when she's weak, the Dark Lady's strong enough to put on a front of strength."
Ronnie's socked foot nudged the Slytherin. "Only you could make that sound like a compliment."
"It's meant to be. Any intelligent person would know as much."
"If you say so, Ferret."
"I do, you chimp."
"What did you call me?"
"What about your Occlumency?" Hermes seemed determined to act as though the Prewett and Black weren't jabbing each other with verbal pencils. "Have you tried that to keep the dream away?"
"In a way..." Harri vacillated. "That is to say, not really."
"Start." It clearly was meant to be an order. Hermes would make someone a great Mum one day. It was great, because Ronnie was barely capable of not poisoning herself at the breakfast table, much less anything as strenuous as cooking. "And tell Dumbledore." Harri grumbled under her breath. "I know you haven't liked the woman much lately, but she's your best hope for things like this."
"I know." And as much as she hated it, she did know. "I'll tell her as soon as she gets over the gay thing."
"Good idea." Hermes stood. "Come on Ronnie—"
"—not do that with vegetables!" the Prewett was saying in a low hiss.
Dracaena visibly struggled not to laugh. "You said—"
"I didn't mean it that way! Slut!"
"Harri's slut to you, furball."
"Veronica! Dracaena!" Both girls turned to Harri, distracted from their fight. "I'm tired," the brunette announced, pulling the only card she knew would work on them both. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh, yeah, sorry." Ronnie slipped off the mattress. "Good night."
"Good nigh—" She didn't even get to finish the phrase before Dracaena grabbed her shin and twisted her head, lips descending. Harri's bones turned to liquid almost immediately. All she could do was grab Dracaena's shoulders and pray she wouldn't fall off the bed. Somewhere in the room, Hermes could be heard trying to swallow his own tongue until Ronnie finally dragged him out of the room.
When they finally parted, the only thing Harri could think of was that Dracaena had a very nice way of saying "mine!".
Part 02
