Title: To Live Forever
Author: Wyld Rose
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I only own the plot, JK Rowling owns everything else!
Chapter 6: Unquiet Library
Once the Halloween Festival and Masquerade were over, everything fell back into place as it had been before—homework, studying, detentions, and bad dreams. It seemed the dreams that Harry, Hermione, and Ron shared were becoming more frequent, and they began to meet with Professor Yonn and Dumbledore more often.
In addition to the frequency of dreams and visions rising, three other students had been found dead, causing an increase in the level of panic around Hogwarts. The three students were Dorothy Paris, a sixth year Ravenclaw, Christopher McLaurel, a first year Ravenclaw, and Mario del Tonio, a second year Gryffindor. The connection between the four deaths that have occurred so far this year was unmistakable. All of the students were part Muggle, and they were all found with the same expression of terror in their eyes. Evidently, Dumbledore had suspected a connection between the visions, dreams and the deaths, and so he called several meetings with Professor Yonn, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Dumbledore suggested that they go talk to Tatheryn about his premonitions, and this made the trio assume that Tatheryn was having more visions.
The library was filled with students cramming for the middle of the year exams. Hermione suggested that the trio visit Tatheryn here, because she often saw him studying in the lounge area. Sure enough, there he was, evidently very interested in one of the resources he was using for a divination report, Hermione thought.
"Excuse me, Tatheryn?" Hermione said softly, not wanting to disturb the readers surrounding them. Ron stood next to her, trying to see what Tatheryn was reading, while Harry stayed relatively distant, remembering what happened when he was near Tatheryn last time. Tatheryn looked up, and glanced warily at Harry, then back to Hermione, offering her a polite smile.
"Hello, is something the matter?" Tatheryn asked, closing his book. The title flashed with a flourish of silver script before he turned it over. Of Snakes and Ambition: A History of the Slytherin House and Brief Biography of Salazar Slytherin. Obviously this book had nothing to do with divination in and of itself.
Ron’s eyebrows met, wondering why Tatheryn would be reading such codswallop. Harry didn’t notice, and Hermione made a failed attempt to read the title before it was obscured from her view.
"We wanted to talk with you about your visions and our dreams. I hate to be so forward, but this is very important," Hermione whispered urgently, Tatheryn bit his lower lip and looked down at his book.
"Dumbledore has been talking to me about all of this, and I was warned that you might ask me that," Tatheryn said, half trying to reassure her that her forwardness was understood and half subtly conveying how apprehensive he felt about the subject. Hermione sat in a couch nearby and Ron sat next to her. Harry continued to stand at a distance and began sifting through the bookshelf.
"Have you had any more visions? Do you feel comfortable telling us your visions?" Hermione asked, almost pleadingly, sitting on the edge of her couch.
"I have had more visions recently, yes, but no, I don’t feel comfortable telling them," Tatheryn responded quietly, "I have a feeling that the bad visions I have are more likely to really happen if I talk about them. Sort of like a self fulfilling prophecy."
Hermione looked extremely disappointed. These Ravenclaws are all so mysterious and woeful.
"But, Dumbledore assured me that this time it is a little different, because the visions are not exclusively my own," Tatheryn added, his eyes lifting from the book and looking up to Harry, "They are very similar to his."
Hermione followed Tatheryn’s gaze to Harry, then said, "Ron and I are having them too, the same dream as Harry."
"Dreams can be visions, if the atmosphere is right," Tatheryn said poetically, "But you and Ron are not exactly receiving the vision, as Harry and I are. Both of you have a bond with Harry that existed in previous lifetimes, and sometimes that bond can allow people to see inside the visions of another."
"Oh, so it’s kind of like Ron and I are watching the movie in which you and Harry are actors? But if that were so, why do we see ourselves experiencing the visions?" Hermione asked, slightly skeptical. Tatheryn sat up straighter, feeling himself drawn further into the conversation.
"Yes, it’s something like that. The reason why you and Ron see yourselves is because your minds are not fit to handle visions, I hate to be blunt, but that is exactly the reason. Your brain gets confused with the images it is receiving from the person actually having a vision, and thus making the image distorted. Your brain then fills in the gaps, the pieces that didn’t seem to fit, with what your brain does understand. Your brain understands who you are and your feelings, so those are what it uses to fill in the gaps. So basically, you see yourselves instead of Harry. If it were simply a dream, you would be able to see Harry there. There is no connection between Harry and I, other than the fact that we both seem to be very psychically sensitive to what is going to happening." Tatheryn was so caught up in explaining that he didn’t realize the last thing he said had foreboding connotations.
"So you had the same vision as me?" Harry asked.
"Not exactly," Tatheryn whispered, settling back in his chair. He could sense they were going to pry for an explanation of his vision.
"What is going to happen?" questioned Hermione, eyes shifting to the book in Tatheryn’s lap. Tatheryn hesitated to respond, casting a sidelong glance to the entrance of the library. The doors opened up and Denethor emerged with Draco trailing behind, hands clasped behind his back. Tatheryn sighed with relief at the possibility of an interruption from Hermione’s prodding questions.
Denethor approached the group, smiling slyly down to Tatheryn over the shoulders of Hermione and Ron. Tatheryn cleared his throat and looked to the floor, lifting a hand to absently stroke at a lock of long alabaster hair that fell over his shoulder. Denethor folded his arms and allowed his voice to invade the silence.
"What do we have here?" Denethor tilted his head, glancing to Ron, Hermione and Harry. Draco soon joined them and sat in a lounge chair nearby, picking up a book from a shelf along the way.
"Go away you slimy gits. It’s none of your concern," Ron snorted, making it quite obvious that he loathed Slytherins.
"I think you would be surprised at just how concerned we are in this matter," Draco retorted smoothly, turning a page of the book.
"I hardly think you have any bloody clue why we’re here. Bloody Slytherins, all you do is cheat and daunt," Ron snapped, face reddening.
"Exactly, now leave us the hell alone," Harry interjected, clenching his fists. Denethor arched an eyebrow and moved to stand behind Tatheryn.
"For crying out loud we’re in a library. Can’t you wait and bully us while we’re leaving? You’ll just disturb everyone trying to study," Hermione added. Draco put the book down and stood, tall and ominous, over the trio.
"Pathetic. It’s amazing to me how much like little tortured rats the three of you sound in the mere presence of a Slytherin. Before you go bringing bloody hell and library etiquette to your pedestal of irrelevance, try practicing your own advocacy on this poor doleful Ravenclaw the three of you are harassing," Draco sneered, hoping to strike a nerve.
"We aren’t harassing him! You’re harassing us! Listen to you, you’re nothing but a hateful prat!" Ron yelled, standing up to face Draco. Although Ron was tall, Draco still had a few inches over him. Draco’s lips curled in a devilish smirk.
Tatheryn stood, tossing the book in the chair and headed for the door. Denethor went after him, casting a contemptuous look at the brawl about to break loose behind them. Just as Tatheryn was about to push the door open to leave, he nearly fell back against Denethor, clutching his head in agony.
A petite redhead pushed open the door to the library, textbooks and parchment rolls tucked in the hook of her arms. Tatheryn watched her walk past, having a hard time concealing the terror from the vision he received in her presence. Denethor supported him with strong arms, eyeing the redhead suspiciously, and recognizing her as Ginny Weasley. She paused and turned to them, gazing at Tatheryn with concern.
"Are you all right?" Ginny asked softly, coming nearer. Tatheryn reeled in pain and almost passed out as Denethor put his arm around his shoulders, holding him up.
"Don’t worry about him, I’ll take him to Madame Pomfrey," Denethor said, helping Tatheryn out of the library. So, she has something to do with this as well...
Ginny watched them leave, confused and worried. The distinctive sound of her brother yelling interrupted her concern, and she turned to see what the fuss was about.
"I’ll rip your head off for saying that, you pompous bastard!"
"Language, Weasley," Draco drawled, rather calmly. An evil glare from the librarian sent Ron muttering obscenities under his breath. Ginny approached them hesitantly, and Hermione took this opportunity of distraction to grab the book Tatheryn was reading and stuff it in her robes.
"Pardon," Ginny said in a small voice behind Draco. Draco turned slightly, glancing down at her.
"There are plenty of other ways you can go without making me move, little weasel," Draco said callously. Ginny felt a slight pang in her stomach at his words, wondering how a kiss so sweet could have come from the same mouth.
"I wasn’t trying to get by. I’m trying to break up this scuffle. Ron, what’s going on?" Ginny asked, turning to Ron. Although she tried to sound brave, her voice wavered nervously.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Gin. Draco’s just being his hateful self," Ron responded gruffly.
"Ron, Harry, let’s go. This has gone on long enough," Hermione scolded.
"I’m not leaving my sister here with this intolerable git," Ron stated with finality, crossing his arms and giving Draco a glaring look.
"I think if she can handle Tom Riddle, she can handle Malfoy any day," Hermione retorted unaware of Ginny’s wince at the mention of Tom Riddle. She continued, tapping the book under her robes, "We have something extremely important to discuss."
"I could go with you, if you want me to," Ginny offered, almost hopefully, "I don’t have anything other to do."
"No, it’s...something private. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to exclude you..." Harry began, but his voice faded as he saw the hopefulness wane from Ginny’s face.
"It’s all right. I understand," Ginny said quietly and turned slowly, walking to another section of the library.
"Poor little Weasley. Rejected by Potter once again," Draco sneered, watching her go. He glanced at the trio disdainfully, "Yes, the three of you run along now. I’m surprised to see that you aren’t wearing your fashionable little member badges of this childishly exclusive club you seem to be part of."
"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron growled as he walked by, following Hermione and Harry out of the library. Draco mused to himself and then decided it would be boring to follow them. Instead, he turned to look for one somber little redhead.
~*~*~*~*~
Ginny sat curled in an emerald couch with silver swirling designs embroidered here and there along the seams. Swan feather quill was bleeding into a pale blue book nestled in her small arms, a glare of concentration etched on her delicate features. With a heavy sigh, her eyes glossed over, threatening tears. Why had she been so foolish to think Draco Malfoy had any shred of emotion for her other than pure loathing? Just then, a familiar drawling voice left her quill hanging on the next line of prose.
"More poetry, I presume?" Draco stood close enough to cast a shadow over her, yet; thankfully, far enough so that he could not read what she had written in her book.
Ginny made no response as she looked up into his cold, unreadable eyes. Draco pulled a cushioned stool over and sat, smoothing out his Slytherin house uniform robes. Ginny recently found it more and more difficult to look away once he had her caught in his gaze. A strange drop of her heart in her chest at that moment, not to mention the tingly feeling that crept all over her skin made her realize that she was rather happy there staring into his eyes.
Draco suddenly found his feet quite interesting, and for a moment he sat in silence. In this instance, there was only air separating them. No Gryffindor and Slytherin, no Weasley and Malfoy. Just space and his overwhelming urge to get rid of it by enfolding her in his arms. Draco shook the peculiar feelings away and paled, mortified by the abrupt lack of his typically scathing demeanor. Instantly, his expression returned to its usual stoic position and he glared indifferently at her poetry journal.
Ginny blinked and bit her bottom lip wearily. She was sure for just a moment she could actually read the emotion in his face. Closing her book carefully, she cleared her throat and found her voice.
"You’re increasingly interested in my poetry, aren’t you Draco?" Ginny said with a gentle smile.
Draco found himself loosing control over his supercilious façade once again. She just referred to him by his first name. Not Malfoy, not slimy git, not intolerable bastard, but Draco. He raked his eyes over her willowy form curled so comfortably in the couch and rested them on her face, on her smile. What the bloody hell is getting into me? She is a Gryffindor! Not just any Gryffindor, but a God awful muggle-loving Weasley with loads of extremely annoying siblings. He thought that by changing the subject would get rid of these bizarre feelings.
"What draws you to that room, Weasley?" Draco asked, forcing his voice to sound more taunting and less curious by spitting out her surname as if it were a curse. Ginny found the fact that she used his first name, yet he used her last name, had just about the same affect as saying that he hated her. Her eyes glossed over again as she tried to hold back tears. She wanted to look anywhere but at him, and so she rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.
"I don’t go there anymore," Ginny uttered softly.
"I left your poem there, on the desk," Draco spoke, the indifference fading from his voice as he leaned closer to her.
"I went back once, many weeks ago. I thought I might stay there a while...work on studying. I saw the poem, but...I swear I’ll never go in that room again," she breathed, opening her eyes partially. They focused on a swirl in the fabric of the couch, feeling herself lost in the memory. Draco began to feel something stir in the pit of his stomach as he watched her—regret that he treated her so harshly, he was sure of it. There was something else there, some other feeling he had never felt before, and had no idea what it was. While he was contentedly studying the way her fiery hair fell in loose waves and lazy curls down almost to the middle of her back, her voice continued to speak. It took every ounce of concentration to focus on her words and not how much he wanted to kiss her.
"When I reached the room, for the first time I noticed a name carved on the surface of the door. Salazar Slytherin. I assumed this room must have belonged to him. Although that was not comforting in the slightest to discover, I made myself go into the room. I cast a light spell and went to lay my books on the floor when I heard a voice. I have heard voices before while in that room, but this was different. They weren’t echoes of some other time, some other reality...they were real. The air was so heavy, and I felt surrounded by negative energy. It was very dark and the light spell barely broke through the shadows. Then, the light from my wand was reflected in the mirror and it startled me. I went to the mirror, and I could have sworn that for a brief moment, my reflection looked...extremely ill. I stood there quietly for a while, trying to listen, gazing into the mirror," Ginny’s voice grew lower, and she continued to explain everything as if she were writing it down in a journal. As if Draco weren’t even there hanging on her every word, "I heard the voices again, and one of them said, ‘She knows.’ I couldn’t believe that they were talking about me, but I felt so eerie, and sick to my stomach, yet still I listened. Another voice said, ‘She will do nicely, then,’ such a terrible voice it was. The first voice was distinctively familiar..." it was as if at that instant she realized she was confiding in Draco, and she sat up straight, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.
Draco’s slender eyebrows were met in deep thought as his mind went over everything she had just said. He noticed her startled position and arched an eyebrow.
"What? Go on...I was interested," he requested composedly.
"I can’t believe I just told you all of that," Ginny whispered.
"It’s too late to worry about that now, finish your explanation."
"You wouldn’t want to know the rest..."
"Just tell me about the familiar voice," Draco was determined to get as much information out of her as possible.
"No, not to you, I don’t trust you," Ginny responded with a wavering voice and bit her lower lip at his scowl.
"Is it just me that sees beyond the sky, Beyond your demons, beyond your eyes..." Draco quoted her poem from memory, and reached to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingertips brushed her cheek slightly as he moved the lock behind her ear.
Why did he have to go and do that...? Ginny sighed at the affectionate gesture and found herself tilting her head towards the caress.
"It was your father," Ginny finally spoke, looking up to his eyes. She could tell that his jaw was clinched as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from her hair.
"How quick you are to trust, Ginny. You should be weary of that," said Draco quietly, not commenting about his father. Ginny couldn’t help but smile at the first time she has ever heard him use her first name. She also scolded herself inwardly for spoiling the moment by mentioning his father.
Draco gazed grimly at nothing in particular, trying to piece together everything that had been happening since his seventh year at Hogwarts began, such as the voices in Salazar Slytherin’s study, and all of the mysterious deaths. He heard from Denethor about the visions Tatheryn had been receiving, yet was not entirely informed about the shared dream of Harry, Hermione and Ron. His father had been attending several Death Eater assemblies over the summer and had explained to Draco about how he would become a Death Eater when he graduates from Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy was indeed an evil man, and Draco was involuntarily following in his footsteps. Draco exhaled in frustration and focused his attention back on Ginny, who had resumed writing in her poetry journal during the long moment of silence.
"We need to talk in a more private place," Draco said finally. Ginny blinked and glanced up to him.
"All right, but where?"
"The abandoned study," Draco stood abruptly and raked a hand through his sleek silver-blond hair. Ginny closed her journal and hesitated for a moment, looking around.
"It’s broad daylight, someone will see us," she responded, sitting up straight.
"Not today, Saturday. Meet me there at one o’clock in the morning," Draco then turned and left the library, not giving Ginny a chance to protest.
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Draco and Ginny belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros and various other corporations. They are being used here without permission and/or affiliation with the above. None of the authors listed here make any profit from these stories.