By The Light

Chapter 20

 

As morning broke the next day so did my slumber. My body coming alive all at once, eyes snapping open and every heightened sense reaching out into my surroundings. It takes the harsh sound of a distant snore for me to realise what is happening, what I am unconsciously doing. Screwing my tightly eyes shut until I hear the rumble of thunder echoing inside my head and resting my hand lightly over my temple I seek out that one constant I know will be at my side, that soft thudding I know will calm me and keep the unknown sounds of the castle at bay. Through the chaos I find it, that steady rhythm and grasp onto it. Letting it fill my mind and pushing every other stimulus away until I no longer notice it’s presence.

 

After counting three of my own shaky breaths and repeatedly telling myself that this is under my control I slowly let my eyes open into the dim room. Watching the thin rays of light spread bellow the drawn curtains as the sun breaks over the horizon, inexplicably feeling the change in time in the pit of my belly. Frowning at the odd sensation I don’t think twice about pushing myself up into a sitting position off the side of the bed, happy that I am able to keep myself focused on Hermione’s steady heart beat as I move. I know I have to get used to all of these sensations and it would be of benefit if I could do such a thing by tomorrow morning when I have to walk back into the real world and face my lessons once again.

 

Slowly as not to over exert myself I push against the mattress and rise to my feet, my stance does not waver and I let a small smile glide across my feature at the small triumph, shifting my weight from one foot to the other to test the limitations on both of my knees which yesterday were almost unable to bear my weight. After I am happy that the joints will hold I cautiously step forward.

 

The pounding behind my eyes this morning, although still present is noticeably dulled after my slumber and keeping my focus on Hermione’s steady heart beats prevent it from escalating, at least for the moment. After noting the conspicuous feeling of amusement, slithering its way along my spine I cock my head to the side. I know the emotion belongs to the animal within me so conclude that she must be watching my movements from behind my eyes and has chosen to remain silent. I make a conscious effort not to draw attention to this fact. If she simply wishes to observe those around me in silence I will happily endure her emotions running along side my own. Although I find it foolhardy to expect her to be a quiet presence for the reminder of my lifetime but one can live and hope.

 

Trying my best to shake the beast’s presence from my mind I make my way to the small adjacent bathroom and immediately turn on the shower, resolved to wash away all evidence of the pain I endured yesterday and start a fresh.

 

I find myself scheming the moment the water hits my crown. This strange new aspect to my condition was completely unexpected and was never something I had planned for; though now it is present it is something that must be addressed. I simply cannot spend the rest of my school life locked in the northern tower and avoid the rest of the population. The thought is immediately discarded from my mind with a growl at the back of my throat. I refuse to appear so weak, even to my own eyes. This new challenge will be accepted and beaten just like its predecessors.

 

After many minuets of discarding possible ways to overcome this new development I resolve myself to the fact that there is only one true option available to me without any outside interference. Practice. Starting right now.

 

Quickly I exit the shower, swiftly drying and dressing with a new determination setting deep into my bones. I take a book from the side and stop only once at the open door to run my eyes over Hermione’s sleeping form. Briefly considering staying in the sanctity this room has to offer, then quickly shaking my head at the notion, leaving the room as quickly and quietly as possible. I cannot alow my own body to beat me in such a way.

 

With the heavy tome under my arm I make my way down to the ground floor, keeping my senses on my own echoing footsteps and I walk through the deserted corridors and eventually make my way into the Great Hall. As I had suspected at such an early hour the room is deserted, save the lonely frail looking figure of Filch sat at the staff table, his cat perched on his shoulder with her claws digging into her robes to support her precarious perch. His eyes land on me and even from this distance I can see the look of repugnance in his eyes, though I can hardly take the look to heart, he makes no secret of the distain he holds for the children of this school. The looks he casts my way is to show his distress at having his breakfast interrupted when he has taken it so early as to avoid the student body.

 

So while carefully casting my eyes down to the ground I quietly make my way to the Gryffindor house table and take a seat.  Casting one look at the food laid out on offer and feel my stomach churn at the mere through of anything inside of it. Upon resting the heavy book on the tabletop the crisp pages fall open to my eyes. Already the distant sounds of others stirring in their beds meet my ears. How far away they are I have no way of knowing, all that I am certain of is the castle is starting to come alive and I have strategically placed myself in the middle of it. Slowly letting myself become exposed as students file in for their morning meal.

 

Trying to lose myself in the book and ignore all the sights and smells around me I hunch over and do not even glace up when the earliest of risers make their way into the hall and Filch quickly leaves so he has no need to be in our presence. 

 

All to quickly the room begins to fill. Where previously I only had the need to ignore the smell of each meal laid out I am now confronted with the conversations. All of them laughing or grumbling and I can hear every word. At first it was so easy to pick out the different conversations, discarding them one by one so I can focus on the printed word in front of me. Soon the sounds become too much. Still I am able to hear every uttered syllable but they overlap and meld together. Becoming incoherent and insuppressible, stinging hits the back of my eyes with such fury that I am forced to close them against the wave of agony that flows through me.

 

Prying my eyes open I take a glance at my watch. Half an hour. If I can endure this for half an hour this whole experiment will not have been in vain. Setting my shoulders in a grim determination and bunching my hand into a fist against my thigh, hidden from prying eyes beneath the table, I rest my eyes back into the pages in front of me. Hardly allowing myself to even blink so I cannot lose this concentration for even a moment.

 

Without warning a hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch so violently from the unexpected contact that I press heavily against the book, sliding it across the polished wooden table, clanging cutlery together. The high-pitched sound drowns out the shallow voices for only a moment before they return again. My concentration on the words broken and I am hit with the unrelenting tide of chatter once more.

 

Feeling the muscles along my shoulders begin to shake I turn abruptly and find the concerned green eyes of Ginny Weasley looking back at me. “Couldn’t you hear me?” I watch her lips as she speaks, able to pick out her voice against the din with the movement.

 

“I wasn’t listening.” I reply, hearing the shudder running through my own voice.

 

She glances up and down the long table before dropping down into the seat next to me. “You should be somewhere more quiet.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, I presume because she thinks by adding any further noise to the oppressing orchestra around me will make all the difference.

 

“No.” I answer quickly. Dropping my forehead into my hand and tightly curling my fingers into my hair, forcing my eyes back to the book once more and trying to gain the level on concentration I had once achieved.

 

“Jamie.” She pauses for a moment seeming to choose her words. “It’s really loud in here.”

 

“I am acutely aware of this.” I answer turning the page in my book, trying to suppress the irate tone to my voice.

 

“Damn it. You were having seizures yesterday.” She says with some urgency, as if somehow I might have forgotten. “Please, I’m sure what ever point you were trying to make you’ve already done it.”

 

I allow a smile to grace my lips. Is this something I do often? Glancing down at my watch once more I find that I am close to my goal. Seven more minuets, that is all that I must tolerate. I tell her this figure and even look at her in unrest as I do so. She may beg and plead all she wants but I refuse to leave this table until I have proven to myself that this feat is achievable.

 

“Seven minuets?” She asks with a deep frown over her forehead. “Are you serious?”

 

“It’s all I ask.” She shakes her head but I can see behind her eyes that she is beginning to cave, already having heard of my stubborn streak. She sighs slowly and looks down at her own watch so she is able to time my suffering for herself.

 

My eyes return to the book in front of me, the words beginning to meld together in my vision, moving up and down as my eyes begins to twitch. Not here, not when I am so close.

 

Turning back to the redhead to see she still has a concerned look on her face, chewing on her bottom lip as she quickly moves her eyes first from her watch then around the gathering student body.

 

Reaching out I press my fingers against her neck and ignore the strange look she throws my way. In seconds I have found her rapidly beating heart and hunt out the tiny sound amongst all the others the cavernous room has to offer. Closing my eyes when I find it. It is the only thing so far that I have found to be truly constant, that rapid push of blood through artery walls. It is always there and although the rhythm may change the sound itself does not.

 

I welcome the now familiar sound into my senses. Grasping it and holding it, pushing everything else away, soon I am able to remove my fingers from the younger girl’s skin, her heartbeat still filling my ears and keeping me grounded. The only indication of exactly how long I have sat there, trying to block out the world is when her hand lands on my shoulder and she whispers close to me. “Times up. Lets go.”

 

I allow her to pull me to my feet but wrench my arm away from her as we begin to walk. I am not an invalid, I managed to walk in to this room and I swear by any of my Gods I can call upon by name that I will walk out of it. Determined not to run I set a fast pace, glad that even though my lower limbs are beginning to shake they show no signs of collapsing beneath me from the strain. Quickly I pass through the threshold from the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall. Although the thick stonewalls do dull the sounds of so many voices it is not nearly enough to stop the constant pounding in my head.

 

Unsure as to why, I forgo the steps into the northern tower and ignore the straggled objection from the youngest Weasley at the action. My sights are set on the main entrance, glaring into the thick wood as though it hold all the answer. Wrenching it open and stepping outside I find myself taking a lung full off the open air. Only fully recognising the deep feeling of claustrophobia when it lifts from my shoulders.

 

The muscles along my back tense against the biting wind but cease all other movement, any other trace of an impending seizure blown away in the breeze.

 

Feeling infinitely more comfortable in my own skin I move further into the breeze and away from the door, shifting myself away from Ginny’s questioning gaze as I smell her making her approach on me. The huge oak door closes a moment later and after resting my palms against the outer stonewalls I turn my gaze in the other girl’s direction.

 

Her shoes shuffle along the gravel and her arms come up to wrap around her torso to keep out the lasting winter chill in the air. “Do we have to be out here?” She asks after a moment.

 

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.” I reply calmly, under normal circumstances I would be angry for her intrusion but the sweet blessed relief flowing through me is so overwhelming that I cannot bring myself to chastise her on the matter.

 

“Yeah.” She says sarcasm dripping from her tone. “After a performance like that I’m going to leave you on your own.”

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

A sceptical eyebrow rises and with her tongue pushing against her canine she mutters a small “Uh-huh.” Showing me her disbelief. After taking a few more strides over to me she leans back heavily on the unforgiving stonework, turning her head to cast her eyes across the landscape as she speaks. “Does being out here make you feel any better?”

 

I am struck dumb for a moment. Both at her show of genuine concern and the profound effect of being in the open air is having upon me. “Yes,” Even the pain in my head is slowly starting to recede.

 

She lets out a slow sigh and rubs her hands with more vigour around her exposed upper arms, appearing to be too stubborn to retreat back into the castle and retrieve her robes. “What exactly were you trying to prove, going into the Great Hall. When you knew it was going to be that loud.”

 

Turning on the spot to match her posture and running my fingers across my aching forehead I answer as simply as possible. “That is was possible.” I answer honestly, wondering why the truthful words hit my tongue with such ease around the younger witch.

 

A snort of humourless laughter has my gaze darting to study her profile. “Idiot.” She says and I find myself unsure, as to whether she is trying to insult me or not. “You were having seizures yesterday. You shouldn’t have to deal with it so soon. Especially not on your own.”

 

I teeth grind together painfully and after tuning my gaze away and swallowing a venomous retort I trust my own voice enough to repeat. “I can take care of myself.” I spit through my clenching jaw.

 

“Yeah well you shouldn’t have too.” She turns towards me and sees the fire of my rage behind my eyes and feels completely undeterred at the sight of it. “I’m serious, you can always come and ask one of us for help. Or failing that you should be able to hide under your bed once in a while.”

 

I feel myself frown, not quite grasping exactly what she is trying to say to me. “Such an action would be childish.”

 

“Exactly.” She says using those hand gestures I have been associating with her brother for weeks now.  “We are children. We get to make mistakes or act on impulses or just crawl into bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist any more.”

 

I can do nothing but blink at her for a few moments. The simple suggestion of acting as a child during ones adolescences is baffling. For as long as I can remember I have been coached to attack every obstacle, every fear and every complication relentlessly until it can either be disregarded or no longer exists. Failure has never been an option to me and for that matter neither has procrastination. “I disagree.”

 

Ginny snorts in amusement at my side pulling me from my memories. “Of course you do. You’re a Slytherin, you’d disagree with me if I said the sky was blue.”

 

Looking up to the heavens I bite my lip in mild amusement upon noticing the heavy cloud cover. “Today, it is decidedly grey.”

 

Her smiling eyes are instantly upon me. “See what I mean?” We both fall into light easy laughter and I find myself wondering exactly when I became comfortable around this girl. Her lower lip catches between her teeth in thought. “You feel up to doing something impulsive?”

 

I don’t like the look in her eyes, it screams of a mischief that I know I shouldn’t involve myself in. “It may be something I need to think on.”

 

A grin pulls so wide across her features as she leans towards me, catching my bent elbow in her grasp. “It wouldn’t be impulsive then would it?”

 

I must concede, she does have a point. I let her pull me from my leaning post and curiosity overweighs any sort of misgivings I have as I fall into step at her side. “Where exactly are we going?”

 

“Now that. Would be a surprise.” She says grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 

Even though her stride is much shorter than my own she still sets an impressive pace leading us off the gravel path and out onto the open field. “If you’ve planned it, this is no longer impulsive.”

 

“Jamie just…” She halts her own speech and throws a frustrated look in my direction. “Just stop thinking so much.” We step past the high goal posts at the edge of the Quidditch pitch and as we near the Gryffindor changing rooms she breaks into a light jog to pull ahead of me. Upon reaching the door she whispers the password, which carries strongly on the wind to my highly sensitive ears and I am able to each and every syllable. The old wooden door gives under her weight and she disappears into the darkness.

 

I approach the doorway at a slow walk, unwilling to encroach on the personal space of a rival team even if I am no longer able to play. “Ginny.” I call out and hear my own voice echo back towards me from the hollow room.

 

With a flash of bright orange and a wide grin she appears back in the doorway a Quaffle held between her hands, which she passes to me. Without having to think I have pulled my hands from my pockets and flattened my palms around the leather surface. “Wanna play?” She asks, watching me adjust and spin the ball slowly in my hands.

 

It feels like an old friend I hadn’t even realised I had lost. Just holding this spherical, hollow leather in my hands is enough to remember the exhilaration of being atop a broom. “I can’t.” I answer, dragging myself back to reality and tossing the red ball back into Ginny’s hands. “I’m banned.”

 

She shrugs once to show her indifference. “Umbridge said you couldn’t play Quidditch. She didn’t say you couldn’t toss a ball around with a friend.”

 

Her last word has me cocking me head in thought. She describes herself as my friend. Not acquaintance or useful contact. Not even someone she must tolerate due to association with Hermione. It is not only the word she used which puzzles me but also the ease in which it was said. I can see no tells within her body language to indicate she might be lying and I am unable to detect any sort of ulterior motive for it’s use. Suddenly I am struck with the notion that she might be completely serious and that alone frightens me.

 

“What?” She asks and for the first time in my life I have no idea what is shown on my face. How much she is able to see and interpret of my thoughts.

 

Quickly I wipe my facial expression clean, hiding behind my comfortable mask of apathy. “Nothing.” I answer, careful not to answer too quickly to arouse suspicion then drawing the conversation away from whatever she may have been thinking. “My broom was confiscated.”

 

Her eyebrows draw together heavily over her green irises for a fleeting moment over the hasty change in subject, before she shakes away her curiosity. “Good thing Ron’s wasn’t.” She says this reaching back into the dimly lit room and throws the broom into my hands.

 

The wooden shaft sings in my grasp and I long to hear the roaring wind pressing against my ears. Every excuse I can formulate feels inadequate even within the confines of my own mind. The freedom I feel so high above the ground is a feeling I have been pining for since the day it was removed from me. Now here I stand with the means to obtain it once more. Any disagreement dies the instant it hits my tongue and slowly I feel a devious smile spread it’s way across my face, mirroring that of my redheaded companion. “Think you can keep up?”

 

She grins wide at the barefaced challenge and before she can react I have turned on the slippery grass and bolted from the doorway.  Mounting my broom mid stride and kicking off into the sky, quickly flattening my body against the shaft to accelerate towards the heavens.

 

I revel in the wind as it blasts past my ears, in no way too overbearing for my accelerate senses; reinforcing the sense of openness and freedom the outdoors is coming to afford me. After I climb at least seventy feet into the air I push lightly against the brooms shaft to level out so I am able to hover in the air and await her arrival. I am not kept waiting long.

 

She pulls on the shaft her of broom as she nears so she pulls alongside, her breath already bursting from her lungs in rapid pants. The flash of her white teeth shows me her glee as she stabs her extended index finger in my direction. “Now that’s the spirit.” She tosses me the Quaffle from her other hand and it lands lightly in my palm.

 

I dip the handle of my broom to push it into a dive, throwing the red ball high above my head into Ginny’s waiting hands as she fly’s past and with that simple motion the game begins.

 

We dip and climb, weave and bob all along the deserted pitch and back again. Throwing the Quaffle between us in a fluidity of motion, each somehow anticipating where the other will be even as our speed and direction vary drastically. Passing the ball between the high goal hoops and forcing each other into drastic dives. The winds beating against my face and assaulting my ears, watching the ground as it rapidly comes up to meet me only to pull out of the dive at the last moment, all contribute to the wide grin I am unable to remove from my features and the brisk best of my heart in my chest.

 

All to soon she is pulling up along side; sweat plastering her hair to her forehead and she pants to catch her breath. “You’re not half bad for a Slytherin.” She comments, softly throwing the ball so it arches in the air and falls into my waiting grasp.

 

Turning my hand to throw the ball into a spin on my middle finger I refrain from brining her house into the discussion, even though it is tempting. “You’re not half bad for a Seeker.”

 

She bunches her shoulders into a shrug, taking her grasp completely from the handle to show her competence upon the broom. “There weren’t any other positions open.”

 

I laugh at her comment, putting some pressure against the base of the ball to throw it lightly into the air then beating it with the side of my fist in her direction. She plucks it out of the air, the grin never leaving her features. “We should properly head back in.” I say with no small amount of regret.

 

Slowly we make out way back to the ground and I hand over her brother’s broom as we reach the door still sitting ajar. She disappeared into the dim room for only a moment before she remerges, brushing her hands together to wipe away any lasting grime and dust.

 

I watch as she closes the door firmly behind her and pushes her weight against it to test the wards have fallen into place. “Thank you.” I say, trying not to react to the shocked expression on her face from my sincerity. I have no idea as to exactly how long we spent up in the air but my whole being feels much lighter for the experience. Worries and pains appearing to have been blown away in the rapid winds, as we rushed from one end of the field to the other.

 

She shakes the shock from between her ears and a grin fixes itself to her features. “Don’t mention it.” slowly her fisted hands find their way to her pockets and her shoulders hunch over as they begin to shiver, the sweat paltering her robes to along her back putting a chill against her skin. “So any plans this afternoon?”

 

Instantly I’m suspicious. My narrowing eyes are testament to that. “Why?”

 

She shrugs, turning to being a slow walk back towards the castle doors. “It’s cold. If I can’t trust you on your own can we at least go inside?”

 

“You don’t have to stay with me.” I reply, already noticing the absence of pain running through my skull. Hopefully it will be enough for me to keep my concentration while inside the castle walls. Then after a few heartbeats I become aware that her words do not set me on edge as they normally would. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I have always been a solitary being, many who have tried to infiltrate my personal space have been met with rebuttal and often scolding words. Yet I find myself walking next to this girl, who is so vastly different to me in so many ways, feeling an odd sensation in my chest that she wishes to stay within my presence for no other reason that she feels that I am in need of it. “I’d like the company though.” I say in a low voice when I am met with nothing but her silence.

 

“Good.” She has a smile on her face that indicates that she wasn’t about to give me any choice in that matter. “So… How about a game of Wizards chess?”

 

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It quickly becomes apparent to me that the youngest Weasley lives very much in the here and now. Her mind not straying any further into the future, than what can entertain her in some way for the next few seconds. Completely disregarding study and what kind of effect a better level of education will have upon her prospects. Something I assume that she deems unimportant at this time in her life. Throughout the day we have conversed at length and have touched on the subject but she has very little to say on the matter.

 

After a brisk walk around the castle hallways and a quick shower for both of us to wash away our exertions on the Quidditch pitch she did managed to provoke me into a game of chess. Under the condition that we played within the Great Hall so I can simultaneously force my brain to become accustomed to the high level of stimuli that it must now endure. We had butted heads on that particular matter for quite some time until I pointed out how quite the Hall would be at this hour of the day and she had thrown her arms up in defeat muttering something about my stubbornness.

 

“Knight to E3.” I command the board watching as the small ebony piece slides across the board rearing up to bash it’s front hooves against the top of the Pawn occupying the space I had directed it to, breaking the ivory into three pieces. “Check.”

 

“Oh, you bitch.” She comments lightly and I ignore the insult having learned it is only her manor of expressing herself, something of which I am still getting used to. “You’ve got my Queen again.”

 

Calmly I retrieve the broken piece from the board and set it to once side then rest my elbow against the tabletop to await her move. She is referring to the fact that she must remove her King from being threatened by my Knight but in doing so will leave her Queen open to attack. It is the most important piece on the board but with her two Rooks still in play she will be able to compensate. A fact she doesn’t want to have to admit as her eyes dart over the pieces for a way to stay in the game and still keep her Queen.

 

She leans back presumably to be able to look at the state of pay from a different angle and snatches up her goblet of pumpkin juice as her forehead creases into a frown. “How do you do that?”

 

I also lean back; apparently she is trying to postpone her inevitable move for as long as possible. “You’re predictable.”

 

The easy conversation and the game itself is keeping my wild senses in check and slowly they are becoming to come under my control, so I am able to play this game to my fullest potential. The frustration in Ginny over this is easy to see as she huffs at my statement. “You’re predicting my moves?” She asks with a slight amount of disbelief laced through her voice. Her eyebrows rising as I nod. “You’re good at that aren’t you? Guessing what people will do.”

 

“We’re no longer talking about chess are we?” I ask, my mind casting back to that day by the black lake.

 

“You did it with Malfoy.” She says confirming that she had been thinking of the same incident and the incline in her voice indicates that she is looking for more information on the whole ordeal and how I was able to forecast the outcome of the confrontation so accurately.

 

I sigh lightly at the change in conversation, not wanting my thoughts to appear on my face. In truth this is a side of myself that I had hoped to remain an unexplored area by all of those I am beginning to surround myself with. Never would I have though that my manipulative talents would come up in conversation during an innocent game of wizard chess, something that in hindsight I should have seen coming, considering how devious you need to be to excel at this game. Although, I am cretin that this topic would have even been touched upon if I had been in the same position with almost anyone else in the school.

 

She is correct, I have spent many moons studying body language and strategic placement of both words and personal to effect outcomes of anything from a casual vote in the common room to openly hostile confrontations, for my own benefit. I am slowly leaning that the youngest of the Weasley clan is something of a wild card in that regard. Her mind working differently to anyone else I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I may be able to accurately stay at the very lest four moves ahead of her when the constricting rules of chess are brought into the mix but it is often very difficult to see the direction of the conversation with her before it is upon us.

 

It is both intriguing and frightening in equal degrees. For much of my life I have been able to interpret situations in minute detail and know what each person around me will do when confronted with them. Such foresight is a handy skill to have at your disposal when trying to remove yourself from circumstances, which may become hazardous.

 

I bring my eyes back to the redhead to find she is still looking at me expectantly. Still yet to make her move and appearing to be unwilling to accept my silence and carry on to another topic as so many others would do in her position.

 

“Draco’s easy.” I say, hoping that she will bring her attention back to the board, all she does it aim a raised eyebrow in my direction, looking to have lost all interest in our game. “It’s not in his nature to take risks and he’s no fool, he understands the dynamics of information and how to exploit it so some extent.”

 

“So what you’re trying to say is that you knew what he would do because he’s clever.”

 

“But no too clever.” I add quickly, thinking back to that day in our first year when he had tried to use information he had gathered when he himself was breaking the rules, being out of bed out of hours, only to land himself in detention, with his eagerness to get others in trouble. I remember poking fun at the boy for days over his miscalculation something, of which he never allowed to happen again. “He constricts himself, using methods he’s tried and tested before. Makes him much easier to read.”

 

“But you knew he wasn’t going to tell anyone. You were certain.” Her deep green eyes focus on me in interest. “How could you possible know that?”

 

“I didn’t. Not really.” I answer with a shrug, after so many hours in the company of the other girl I have stopped questioning my honesty around her. “I took a calculated risk, you just wouldn’t have gone along with it if you didn’t think I was sure.”

 

She shakes her head and her eyes drop back to the table between us. “I don’t get it. King to E1.” She says apparently already bored with the turn in conversation.

 

“On some levels I think I’m glad of that. Knight to D1.” I command and smile in satisfaction as the small hours pounds it hooves against the white Queen. I have lost the piece for certain but it was well worth the sacrifice.

 

She throws me a mock scowl in her frustration. “King to D1. Why?”

 

I will miss that valiant Knight dearly but I can take comfort in the fact that this game will only last another three moves. “It’s nice to be around honest people for once.”

 

A single sent permeates the concentration I have had over the game and conversation and has my gaze turning to meet Hermione’s as she cautiously makes her way over to us with a book held tightly to her chest in her crossed arms. The smile on her face twinkles in her eyes and she places the heavy tome on the table next to the board. “What have you two been up to?” she asks in a suspicious manor.

 

“Nothing.” We answer simultaneously then both look towards each other. I can feel my face contorting into some form of mortification while the redhead across the table mealy grins.

 

One of her eyebrows raise and she fights hard against the smile threatening to break across her face. “Well, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

 

Ginny very quickly plays the injured party with all the innocence of a dragon surrounded by broken china. “We were just playing wizards chess, minding our own business and all you can do is come in here and accuse us of something. Which we couldn’t possibly have been doing sitting here so quietly” She frowns slightly bringing her eyes down on me. “It’s you’re move by the way.” She says with some impatience in her voice.

 

“Indeed. Rook to B2.” My gaze is draw skyward as Hermione’s hand lands against my shoulder and I give her a questioning look.

 

The smile doesn’t leave her face as she speaks. “You’re looking a lot better.”

 

“I feel it.” I answer honestly. Without the constant pounding in her my head and even though I am able to feel my wolf’s emotions at times she has remained a silent presence. Observing as she said she would from behind my eyes, it is an odd sensation but I am starting to feel a lot more like myself.

 

I continue to gaze up into those soulfully brown eyes, once again feeling lost within their depths and thankful that I am once again permitted to look upon her in such a way. The moment we share is in no way profound or life changing but I am still irritated when Ginny makes me break the eye contact with a murmur of “Oh bugger.” Before she waves out across the table catching her King with the back of her hand so he falls onto the black and white tiles of the board, forfeiting the match to me. I frown slightly in exasperation having not had the pleasure of the final checkmate. She throws her hands up and leans back once more. “I’m never playing chess with you again.”

 

“So I should suffer because you’re a sore loser?” I ask only able to keep back my sniggers my letting my lips lift in a smirk.

 

“You said you could play.” She points an accusing finger in my directions and I am beginning to think that untamed hand gestures run in the family. “You didn’t say you were bloody good.”

 

Hermione sighs at our antics, lowering herself into her seat and opening the dust covered book, quickly dropping her eyes to it and immersing herself in the printed word.

 

“Oh come on Weasley.” I start trying to provoke her into another game; I freely admit that I had been enjoying the time spent at the board. It is difficult for me to find someone willing to play. “You won one game.”

 

“Yeah, you let me win.”

 

I raise my eyebrows in a show of innocence; of which I am sure cannot have looked in any way genuine. “Did I?”

 

Watching as doubt clouds her mind for a moment, already I know that she will play again if only to prove to herself that her one win was not a fluke. “Oh,” She says taking her wand from the tabletop, pointing the tip to the fallen pieces ready to repair them. “It’s so on.”

 

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Dinner rolled around as the last dwindling rays of light clung to the horizon and at the constant urging of my two companions I was convinced to leave the hall after a very small bland meal, both of them becoming distressed at the thought of me exposed to so much so soon after the new development of my senses.

 

Hermione with one arm curled around her book and the fingers of her other hand laced tightly through mine, slowly begins to climb the stairs leading to the northern tower, bringing us closer to her room. “So.” She pauses and throws a look up in my direction. “What have you been doing with Ginny all day?”

 

“This and that.” I answer vaguely, knowing that she will disapprove of our brief fly around the Quidditch pitch for much of the early morning.

 

She makes a small grumble in the back of her throat but she is smiling at me so I assume that I will not be receiving a lecture over my secretive ways. “Just so long as you didn’t do anything illegal.”

 

“I almost get the feeling you don’t trust me.”

 

“You I trust, to some extent at least.” She begins in a teasing voice. “Ginny though, has been spending far to much time with Fred and George.”

 

“I see.” I make a show of mulling this over before continuing our banter. “So you’re frightened she’ll rub off on me.”

 

She laughs at this but makes no comment and we fall into very comfortable silence.

 

Her questions do bring up some things that are puzzling me. I have spent a great portion of the day with a girl I know very little of, with no agenda of my own and very little productivity came out of it. Even though I have to admit I have enjoyed my time with the gutter mouthed redhead and I cannot for the life of me think why. We have done nothing more than jest and play, there is no feeling of accomplishment but there is something else. Some thought or feeling that I can’t put words to.

 

“Is something bothering you?” Hermione asks. Dragging me from my inner musing with a look of concern on her face.

 

I think to brush away her apprehension but realise I have been doing far too much of that over the past two days and there is a question that I must have answered.  “Just something Ginny said.”

 

“Oh.” She says as a way of provoking a more detailed explanation.

 

“This morning she…” I pause for a moment and not for the first time since being invited into this small group feel out of my element. “She said I was her friend.”

 

The confusion is easy to see on her face. “And this surprises you?” Her voice is curious as if she doesn’t quite know where I am going with this revelation.

 

“She meant it.” When she used the word she had not look at me intently, waiting for me to see some hidden meaning within its depths. It slipped out in passing giving me the notion that there had been genuine feeling behind it.

 

She pulls to a stop at her doorway and turns to gaze up at me. “You make it sound like you’ve never had friends before Jamie.”

 

“I thought I had, at one time.” I pause, examining not only the actions of the Gryffindors but also my own thoughts and feelings surrounding them. “I’m beginning to learn I may have been wrong.”

 

Her fingers sneeze in mine for a moment before she loosens they’re hold to whisper her password and push open the door. When she turns back towards me her smile looks almost sad. “Well. Looks like we can teach you a few things for once.”

 

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There I said I was going to give her a good day. There was some pain in there but I gave her a friend I think that was very nice of me. Has nothing at all to do with how much fun writing Ginny is, I hope she’s true to the book I’ll have a read over soon as see how far out I am but to be honest… don’t care she’s staying like this.

Chapter 20

 

As morning broke the next day so did my slumber. My body coming alive all at once, eyes snapping open and every heightened sense reaching out into my surroundings. It takes the harsh sound of a distant snore for me to realise what is happening, what I am unconsciously doing. Screwing my tightly eyes shut until I hear the rumble of thunder echoing inside my head and resting my hand lightly over my temple I seek out that one constant I know will be at my side, that soft thudding I know will calm me and keep the unknown sounds of the castle at bay. Through the chaos I find it, that steady rhythm and grasp onto it. Letting it fill my mind and pushing every other stimulus away until I no longer notice it’s presence.

 

After counting three of my own shaky breaths and repeatedly telling myself that this is under my control I slowly let my eyes open into the dim room. Watching the thin rays of light spread bellow the drawn curtains as the sun breaks over the horizon, inexplicably feeling the change in time in the pit of my belly. Frowning at the odd sensation I don’t think twice about pushing myself up into a sitting position off the side of the bed, happy that I am able to keep myself focused on Hermione’s steady heart beat as I move. I know I have to get used to all of these sensations and it would be of benefit if I could do such a thing by tomorrow morning when I have to walk back into the real world and face my lessons once again.

 

Slowly as not to over exert myself I push against the mattress and rise to my feet, my stance does not waver and I let a small smile glide across my feature at the small triumph, shifting my weight from one foot to the other to test the limitations on both of my knees which yesterday were almost unable to bear my weight. After I am happy that the joints will hold I cautiously step forward.

 

The pounding behind my eyes this morning, although still present is noticeably dulled after my slumber and keeping my focus on Hermione’s steady heart beats prevent it from escalating, at least for the moment. After noting the conspicuous feeling of amusement, slithering its way along my spine I cock my head to the side. I know the emotion belongs to the animal within me so conclude that she must be watching my movements from behind my eyes and has chosen to remain silent. I make a conscious effort not to draw attention to this fact. If she simply wishes to observe those around me in silence I will happily endure her emotions running along side my own. Although I find it foolhardy to expect her to be a quiet presence for the reminder of my lifetime but one can live and hope.

 

Trying my best to shake the beast’s presence from my mind I make my way to the small adjacent bathroom and immediately turn on the shower, resolved to wash away all evidence of the pain I endured yesterday and start a fresh.

 

I find myself scheming the moment the water hits my crown. This strange new aspect to my condition was completely unexpected and was never something I had planned for; though now it is present it is something that must be addressed. I simply cannot spend the rest of my school life locked in the northern tower and avoid the rest of the population. The thought is immediately discarded from my mind with a growl at the back of my throat. I refuse to appear so weak, even to my own eyes. This new challenge will be accepted and beaten just like its predecessors.

 

After many minuets of discarding possible ways to overcome this new development I resolve myself to the fact that there is only one true option available to me without any outside interference. Practice. Starting right now.

 

Quickly I exit the shower, swiftly drying and dressing with a new determination setting deep into my bones. I take a book from the side and stop only once at the open door to run my eyes over Hermione’s sleeping form. Briefly considering staying in the sanctity this room has to offer, then quickly shaking my head at the notion, leaving the room as quickly and quietly as possible. I cannot alow my own body to beat me in such a way.

 

With the heavy tome under my arm I make my way down to the ground floor, keeping my senses on my own echoing footsteps and I walk through the deserted corridors and eventually make my way into the Great Hall. As I had suspected at such an early hour the room is deserted, save the lonely frail looking figure of Filch sat at the staff table, his cat perched on his shoulder with her claws digging into her robes to support her precarious perch. His eyes land on me and even from this distance I can see the look of repugnance in his eyes, though I can hardly take the look to heart, he makes no secret of the distain he holds for the children of this school. The looks he casts my way is to show his distress at having his breakfast interrupted when he has taken it so early as to avoid the student body.

 

So while carefully casting my eyes down to the ground I quietly make my way to the Gryffindor house table and take a seat.  Casting one look at the food laid out on offer and feel my stomach churn at the mere through of anything inside of it. Upon resting the heavy book on the tabletop the crisp pages fall open to my eyes. Already the distant sounds of others stirring in their beds meet my ears. How far away they are I have no way of knowing, all that I am certain of is the castle is starting to come alive and I have strategically placed myself in the middle of it. Slowly letting myself become exposed as students file in for their morning meal.

 

Trying to lose myself in the book and ignore all the sights and smells around me I hunch over and do not even glace up when the earliest of risers make their way into the hall and Filch quickly leaves so he has no need to be in our presence. 

 

All to quickly the room begins to fill. Where previously I only had the need to ignore the smell of each meal laid out I am now confronted with the conversations. All of them laughing or grumbling and I can hear every word. At first it was so easy to pick out the different conversations, discarding them one by one so I can focus on the printed word in front of me. Soon the sounds become too much. Still I am able to hear every uttered syllable but they overlap and meld together. Becoming incoherent and insuppressible, stinging hits the back of my eyes with such fury that I am forced to close them against the wave of agony that flows through me.

 

Prying my eyes open I take a glance at my watch. Half an hour. If I can endure this for half an hour this whole experiment will not have been in vain. Setting my shoulders in a grim determination and bunching my hand into a fist against my thigh, hidden from prying eyes beneath the table, I rest my eyes back into the pages in front of me. Hardly allowing myself to even blink so I cannot lose this concentration for even a moment.

 

Without warning a hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch so violently from the unexpected contact that I press heavily against the book, sliding it across the polished wooden table, clanging cutlery together. The high-pitched sound drowns out the shallow voices for only a moment before they return again. My concentration on the words broken and I am hit with the unrelenting tide of chatter once more.

 

Feeling the muscles along my shoulders begin to shake I turn abruptly and find the concerned green eyes of Ginny Weasley looking back at me. “Couldn’t you hear me?” I watch her lips as she speaks, able to pick out her voice against the din with the movement.

 

“I wasn’t listening.” I reply, hearing the shudder running through my own voice.

 

She glances up and down the long table before dropping down into the seat next to me. “You should be somewhere more quiet.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, I presume because she thinks by adding any further noise to the oppressing orchestra around me will make all the difference.

 

“No.” I answer quickly. Dropping my forehead into my hand and tightly curling my fingers into my hair, forcing my eyes back to the book once more and trying to gain the level on concentration I had once achieved.

 

“Jamie.” She pauses for a moment seeming to choose her words. “It’s really loud in here.”

 

“I am acutely aware of this.” I answer turning the page in my book, trying to suppress the irate tone to my voice.

 

“Damn it. You were having seizures yesterday.” She says with some urgency, as if somehow I might have forgotten. “Please, I’m sure what ever point you were trying to make you’ve already done it.”

 

I allow a smile to grace my lips. Is this something I do often? Glancing down at my watch once more I find that I am close to my goal. Seven more minuets, that is all that I must tolerate. I tell her this figure and even look at her in unrest as I do so. She may beg and plead all she wants but I refuse to leave this table until I have proven to myself that this feat is achievable.

 

“Seven minuets?” She asks with a deep frown over her forehead. “Are you serious?”

 

“It’s all I ask.” She shakes her head but I can see behind her eyes that she is beginning to cave, already having heard of my stubborn streak. She sighs slowly and looks down at her own watch so she is able to time my suffering for herself.

 

My eyes return to the book in front of me, the words beginning to meld together in my vision, moving up and down as my eyes begins to twitch. Not here, not when I am so close.

 

Turning back to the redhead to see she still has a concerned look on her face, chewing on her bottom lip as she quickly moves her eyes first from her watch then around the gathering student body.

 

Reaching out I press my fingers against her neck and ignore the strange look she throws my way. In seconds I have found her rapidly beating heart and hunt out the tiny sound amongst all the others the cavernous room has to offer. Closing my eyes when I find it. It is the only thing so far that I have found to be truly constant, that rapid push of blood through artery walls. It is always there and although the rhythm may change the sound itself does not.

 

I welcome the now familiar sound into my senses. Grasping it and holding it, pushing everything else away, soon I am able to remove my fingers from the younger girl’s skin, her heartbeat still filling my ears and keeping me grounded. The only indication of exactly how long I have sat there, trying to block out the world is when her hand lands on my shoulder and she whispers close to me. “Times up. Lets go.”

 

I allow her to pull me to my feet but wrench my arm away from her as we begin to walk. I am not an invalid, I managed to walk in to this room and I swear by any of my Gods I can call upon by name that I will walk out of it. Determined not to run I set a fast pace, glad that even though my lower limbs are beginning to shake they show no signs of collapsing beneath me from the strain. Quickly I pass through the threshold from the Great Hall and into the Entrance Hall. Although the thick stonewalls do dull the sounds of so many voices it is not nearly enough to stop the constant pounding in my head.

 

Unsure as to why, I forgo the steps into the northern tower and ignore the straggled objection from the youngest Weasley at the action. My sights are set on the main entrance, glaring into the thick wood as though it hold all the answer. Wrenching it open and stepping outside I find myself taking a lung full off the open air. Only fully recognising the deep feeling of claustrophobia when it lifts from my shoulders.

 

The muscles along my back tense against the biting wind but cease all other movement, any other trace of an impending seizure blown away in the breeze.

 

Feeling infinitely more comfortable in my own skin I move further into the breeze and away from the door, shifting myself away from Ginny’s questioning gaze as I smell her making her approach on me. The huge oak door closes a moment later and after resting my palms against the outer stonewalls I turn my gaze in the other girl’s direction.

 

Her shoes shuffle along the gravel and her arms come up to wrap around her torso to keep out the lasting winter chill in the air. “Do we have to be out here?” She asks after a moment.

 

“I didn’t ask you to follow me.” I reply calmly, under normal circumstances I would be angry for her intrusion but the sweet blessed relief flowing through me is so overwhelming that I cannot bring myself to chastise her on the matter.

 

“Yeah.” She says sarcasm dripping from her tone. “After a performance like that I’m going to leave you on your own.”

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

A sceptical eyebrow rises and with her tongue pushing against her canine she mutters a small “Uh-huh.” Showing me her disbelief. After taking a few more strides over to me she leans back heavily on the unforgiving stonework, turning her head to cast her eyes across the landscape as she speaks. “Does being out here make you feel any better?”

 

I am struck dumb for a moment. Both at her show of genuine concern and the profound effect of being in the open air is having upon me. “Yes,” Even the pain in my head is slowly starting to recede.

 

She lets out a slow sigh and rubs her hands with more vigour around her exposed upper arms, appearing to be too stubborn to retreat back into the castle and retrieve her robes. “What exactly were you trying to prove, going into the Great Hall. When you knew it was going to be that loud.”

 

Turning on the spot to match her posture and running my fingers across my aching forehead I answer as simply as possible. “That is was possible.” I answer honestly, wondering why the truthful words hit my tongue with such ease around the younger witch.

 

A snort of humourless laughter has my gaze darting to study her profile. “Idiot.” She says and I find myself unsure, as to whether she is trying to insult me or not. “You were having seizures yesterday. You shouldn’t have to deal with it so soon. Especially not on your own.”

 

I teeth grind together painfully and after tuning my gaze away and swallowing a venomous retort I trust my own voice enough to repeat. “I can take care of myself.” I spit through my clenching jaw.

 

“Yeah well you shouldn’t have too.” She turns towards me and sees the fire of my rage behind my eyes and feels completely undeterred at the sight of it. “I’m serious, you can always come and ask one of us for help. Or failing that you should be able to hide under your bed once in a while.”

 

I feel myself frown, not quite grasping exactly what she is trying to say to me. “Such an action would be childish.”

 

“Exactly.” She says using those hand gestures I have been associating with her brother for weeks now.  “We are children. We get to make mistakes or act on impulses or just crawl into bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist any more.”

 

I can do nothing but blink at her for a few moments. The simple suggestion of acting as a child during ones adolescences is baffling. For as long as I can remember I have been coached to attack every obstacle, every fear and every complication relentlessly until it can either be disregarded or no longer exists. Failure has never been an option to me and for that matter neither has procrastination. “I disagree.”

 

Ginny snorts in amusement at my side pulling me from my memories. “Of course you do. You’re a Slytherin, you’d disagree with me if I said the sky was blue.”

 

Looking up to the heavens I bite my lip in mild amusement upon noticing the heavy cloud cover. “Today, it is decidedly grey.”

 

Her smiling eyes are instantly upon me. “See what I mean?” We both fall into light easy laughter and I find myself wondering exactly when I became comfortable around this girl. Her lower lip catches between her teeth in thought. “You feel up to doing something impulsive?”

 

I don’t like the look in her eyes, it screams of a mischief that I know I shouldn’t involve myself in. “It may be something I need to think on.”

 

A grin pulls so wide across her features as she leans towards me, catching my bent elbow in her grasp. “It wouldn’t be impulsive then would it?”

 

I must concede, she does have a point. I let her pull me from my leaning post and curiosity overweighs any sort of misgivings I have as I fall into step at her side. “Where exactly are we going?”

 

“Now that. Would be a surprise.” She says grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 

Even though her stride is much shorter than my own she still sets an impressive pace leading us off the gravel path and out onto the open field. “If you’ve planned it, this is no longer impulsive.”

 

“Jamie just…” She halts her own speech and throws a frustrated look in my direction. “Just stop thinking so much.” We step past the high goal posts at the edge of the Quidditch pitch and as we near the Gryffindor changing rooms she breaks into a light jog to pull ahead of me. Upon reaching the door she whispers the password, which carries strongly on the wind to my highly sensitive ears and I am able to each and every syllable. The old wooden door gives under her weight and she disappears into the darkness.

 

I approach the doorway at a slow walk, unwilling to encroach on the personal space of a rival team even if I am no longer able to play. “Ginny.” I call out and hear my own voice echo back towards me from the hollow room.

 

With a flash of bright orange and a wide grin she appears back in the doorway a Quaffle held between her hands, which she passes to me. Without having to think I have pulled my hands from my pockets and flattened my palms around the leather surface. “Wanna play?” She asks, watching me adjust and spin the ball slowly in my hands.

 

It feels like an old friend I hadn’t even realised I had lost. Just holding this spherical, hollow leather in my hands is enough to remember the exhilaration of being atop a broom. “I can’t.” I answer, dragging myself back to reality and tossing the red ball back into Ginny’s hands. “I’m banned.”

 

She shrugs once to show her indifference. “Umbridge said you couldn’t play Quidditch. She didn’t say you couldn’t toss a ball around with a friend.”

 

Her last word has me cocking me head in thought. She describes herself as my friend. Not acquaintance or useful contact. Not even someone she must tolerate due to association with Hermione. It is not only the word she used which puzzles me but also the ease in which it was said. I can see no tells within her body language to indicate she might be lying and I am unable to detect any sort of ulterior motive for it’s use. Suddenly I am struck with the notion that she might be completely serious and that alone frightens me.

 

“What?” She asks and for the first time in my life I have no idea what is shown on my face. How much she is able to see and interpret of my thoughts.

 

Quickly I wipe my facial expression clean, hiding behind my comfortable mask of apathy. “Nothing.” I answer, careful not to answer too quickly to arouse suspicion then drawing the conversation away from whatever she may have been thinking. “My broom was confiscated.”

 

Her eyebrows draw together heavily over her green irises for a fleeting moment over the hasty change in subject, before she shakes away her curiosity. “Good thing Ron’s wasn’t.” She says this reaching back into the dimly lit room and throws the broom into my hands.

 

The wooden shaft sings in my grasp and I long to hear the roaring wind pressing against my ears. Every excuse I can formulate feels inadequate even within the confines of my own mind. The freedom I feel so high above the ground is a feeling I have been pining for since the day it was removed from me. Now here I stand with the means to obtain it once more. Any disagreement dies the instant it hits my tongue and slowly I feel a devious smile spread it’s way across my face, mirroring that of my redheaded companion. “Think you can keep up?”

 

She grins wide at the barefaced challenge and before she can react I have turned on the slippery grass and bolted from the doorway.  Mounting my broom mid stride and kicking off into the sky, quickly flattening my body against the shaft to accelerate towards the heavens.

 

I revel in the wind as it blasts past my ears, in no way too overbearing for my accelerate senses; reinforcing the sense of openness and freedom the outdoors is coming to afford me. After I climb at least seventy feet into the air I push lightly against the brooms shaft to level out so I am able to hover in the air and await her arrival. I am not kept waiting long.

 

She pulls on the shaft her of broom as she nears so she pulls alongside, her breath already bursting from her lungs in rapid pants. The flash of her white teeth shows me her glee as she stabs her extended index finger in my direction. “Now that’s the spirit.” She tosses me the Quaffle from her other hand and it lands lightly in my palm.

 

I dip the handle of my broom to push it into a dive, throwing the red ball high above my head into Ginny’s waiting hands as she fly’s past and with that simple motion the game begins.

 

We dip and climb, weave and bob all along the deserted pitch and back again. Throwing the Quaffle between us in a fluidity of motion, each somehow anticipating where the other will be even as our speed and direction vary drastically. Passing the ball between the high goal hoops and forcing each other into drastic dives. The winds beating against my face and assaulting my ears, watching the ground as it rapidly comes up to meet me only to pull out of the dive at the last moment, all contribute to the wide grin I am unable to remove from my features and the brisk best of my heart in my chest.

 

All to soon she is pulling up along side; sweat plastering her hair to her forehead and she pants to catch her breath. “You’re not half bad for a Slytherin.” She comments, softly throwing the ball so it arches in the air and falls into my waiting grasp.

 

Turning my hand to throw the ball into a spin on my middle finger I refrain from brining her house into the discussion, even though it is tempting. “You’re not half bad for a Seeker.”

 

She bunches her shoulders into a shrug, taking her grasp completely from the handle to show her competence upon the broom. “There weren’t any other positions open.”

 

I laugh at her comment, putting some pressure against the base of the ball to throw it lightly into the air then beating it with the side of my fist in her direction. She plucks it out of the air, the grin never leaving her features. “We should properly head back in.” I say with no small amount of regret.

 

Slowly we make out way back to the ground and I hand over her brother’s broom as we reach the door still sitting ajar. She disappeared into the dim room for only a moment before she remerges, brushing her hands together to wipe away any lasting grime and dust.

 

I watch as she closes the door firmly behind her and pushes her weight against it to test the wards have fallen into place. “Thank you.” I say, trying not to react to the shocked expression on her face from my sincerity. I have no idea as to exactly how long we spent up in the air but my whole being feels much lighter for the experience. Worries and pains appearing to have been blown away in the rapid winds, as we rushed from one end of the field to the other.

 

She shakes the shock from between her ears and a grin fixes itself to her features. “Don’t mention it.” slowly her fisted hands find their way to her pockets and her shoulders hunch over as they begin to shiver, the sweat paltering her robes to along her back putting a chill against her skin. “So any plans this afternoon?”

 

Instantly I’m suspicious. My narrowing eyes are testament to that. “Why?”

 

She shrugs, turning to being a slow walk back towards the castle doors. “It’s cold. If I can’t trust you on your own can we at least go inside?”

 

“You don’t have to stay with me.” I reply, already noticing the absence of pain running through my skull. Hopefully it will be enough for me to keep my concentration while inside the castle walls. Then after a few heartbeats I become aware that her words do not set me on edge as they normally would. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I have always been a solitary being, many who have tried to infiltrate my personal space have been met with rebuttal and often scolding words. Yet I find myself walking next to this girl, who is so vastly different to me in so many ways, feeling an odd sensation in my chest that she wishes to stay within my presence for no other reason that she feels that I am in need of it. “I’d like the company though.” I say in a low voice when I am met with nothing but her silence.

 

“Good.” She has a smile on her face that indicates that she wasn’t about to give me any choice in that matter. “So… How about a game of Wizards chess?”

 

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It quickly becomes apparent to me that the youngest Weasley lives very much in the here and now. Her mind not straying any further into the future, than what can entertain her in some way for the next few seconds. Completely disregarding study and what kind of effect a better level of education will have upon her prospects. Something I assume that she deems unimportant at this time in her life. Throughout the day we have conversed at length and have touched on the subject but she has very little to say on the matter.

 

After a brisk walk around the castle hallways and a quick shower for both of us to wash away our exertions on the Quidditch pitch she did managed to provoke me into a game of chess. Under the condition that we played within the Great Hall so I can simultaneously force my brain to become accustomed to the high level of stimuli that it must now endure. We had butted heads on that particular matter for quite some time until I pointed out how quite the Hall would be at this hour of the day and she had thrown her arms up in defeat muttering something about my stubbornness.

 

“Knight to E3.” I command the board watching as the small ebony piece slides across the board rearing up to bash it’s front hooves against the top of the Pawn occupying the space I had directed it to, breaking the ivory into three pieces. “Check.”

 

“Oh, you bitch.” She comments lightly and I ignore the insult having learned it is only her manor of expressing herself, something of which I am still getting used to. “You’ve got my Queen again.”

 

Calmly I retrieve the broken piece from the board and set it to once side then rest my elbow against the tabletop to await her move. She is referring to the fact that she must remove her King from being threatened by my Knight but in doing so will leave her Queen open to attack. It is the most important piece on the board but with her two Rooks still in play she will be able to compensate. A fact she doesn’t want to have to admit as her eyes dart over the pieces for a way to stay in the game and still keep her Queen.

 

She leans back presumably to be able to look at the state of pay from a different angle and snatches up her goblet of pumpkin juice as her forehead creases into a frown. “How do you do that?”

 

I also lean back; apparently she is trying to postpone her inevitable move for as long as possible. “You’re predictable.”

 

The easy conversation and the game itself is keeping my wild senses in check and slowly they are becoming to come under my control, so I am able to play this game to my fullest potential. The frustration in Ginny over this is easy to see as she huffs at my statement. “You’re predicting my moves?” She asks with a slight amount of disbelief laced through her voice. Her eyebrows rising as I nod. “You’re good at that aren’t you? Guessing what people will do.”

 

“We’re no longer talking about chess are we?” I ask, my mind casting back to that day by the black lake.

 

“You did it with Malfoy.” She says confirming that she had been thinking of the same incident and the incline in her voice indicates that she is looking for more information on the whole ordeal and how I was able to forecast the outcome of the confrontation so accurately.

 

I sigh lightly at the change in conversation, not wanting my thoughts to appear on my face. In truth this is a side of myself that I had hoped to remain an unexplored area by all of those I am beginning to surround myself with. Never would I have though that my manipulative talents would come up in conversation during an innocent game of wizard chess, something that in hindsight I should have seen coming, considering how devious you need to be to excel at this game. Although, I am cretin that this topic would have even been touched upon if I had been in the same position with almost anyone else in the school.

 

She is correct, I have spent many moons studying body language and strategic placement of both words and personal to effect outcomes of anything from a casual vote in the common room to openly hostile confrontations, for my own benefit. I am slowly leaning that the youngest of the Weasley clan is something of a wild card in that regard. Her mind working differently to anyone else I have ever had the pleasure to meet. I may be able to accurately stay at the very lest four moves ahead of her when the constricting rules of chess are brought into the mix but it is often very difficult to see the direction of the conversation with her before it is upon us.

 

It is both intriguing and frightening in equal degrees. For much of my life I have been able to interpret situations in minute detail and know what each person around me will do when confronted with them. Such foresight is a handy skill to have at your disposal when trying to remove yourself from circumstances, which may become hazardous.

 

I bring my eyes back to the redhead to find she is still looking at me expectantly. Still yet to make her move and appearing to be unwilling to accept my silence and carry on to another topic as so many others would do in her position.

 

“Draco’s easy.” I say, hoping that she will bring her attention back to the board, all she does it aim a raised eyebrow in my direction, looking to have lost all interest in our game. “It’s not in his nature to take risks and he’s no fool, he understands the dynamics of information and how to exploit it so some extent.”

 

“So what you’re trying to say is that you knew what he would do because he’s clever.”

 

“But no too clever.” I add quickly, thinking back to that day in our first year when he had tried to use information he had gathered when he himself was breaking the rules, being out of bed out of hours, only to land himself in detention, with his eagerness to get others in trouble. I remember poking fun at the boy for days over his miscalculation something, of which he never allowed to happen again. “He constricts himself, using methods he’s tried and tested before. Makes him much easier to read.”

 

“But you knew he wasn’t going to tell anyone. You were certain.” Her deep green eyes focus on me in interest. “How could you possible know that?”

 

“I didn’t. Not really.” I answer with a shrug, after so many hours in the company of the other girl I have stopped questioning my honesty around her. “I took a calculated risk, you just wouldn’t have gone along with it if you didn’t think I was sure.”

 

She shakes her head and her eyes drop back to the table between us. “I don’t get it. King to E1.” She says apparently already bored with the turn in conversation.

 

“On some levels I think I’m glad of that. Knight to D1.” I command and smile in satisfaction as the small hours pounds it hooves against the white Queen. I have lost the piece for certain but it was well worth the sacrifice.

 

She throws me a mock scowl in her frustration. “King to D1. Why?”

 

I will miss that valiant Knight dearly but I can take comfort in the fact that this game will only last another three moves. “It’s nice to be around honest people for once.”

 

A single sent permeates the concentration I have had over the game and conversation and has my gaze turning to meet Hermione’s as she cautiously makes her way over to us with a book held tightly to her chest in her crossed arms. The smile on her face twinkles in her eyes and she places the heavy tome on the table next to the board. “What have you two been up to?” she asks in a suspicious manor.

 

“Nothing.” We answer simultaneously then both look towards each other. I can feel my face contorting into some form of mortification while the redhead across the table mealy grins.

 

One of her eyebrows raise and she fights hard against the smile threatening to break across her face. “Well, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

 

Ginny very quickly plays the injured party with all the innocence of a dragon surrounded by broken china. “We were just playing wizards chess, minding our own business and all you can do is come in here and accuse us of something. Which we couldn’t possibly have been doing sitting here so quietly” She frowns slightly bringing her eyes down on me. “It’s you’re move by the way.” She says with some impatience in her voice.

 

“Indeed. Rook to B2.” My gaze is draw skyward as Hermione’s hand lands against my shoulder and I give her a questioning look.

 

The smile doesn’t leave her face as she speaks. “You’re looking a lot better.”

 

“I feel it.” I answer honestly. Without the constant pounding in her my head and even though I am able to feel my wolf’s emotions at times she has remained a silent presence. Observing as she said she would from behind my eyes, it is an odd sensation but I am starting to feel a lot more like myself.

 

I continue to gaze up into those soulfully brown eyes, once again feeling lost within their depths and thankful that I am once again permitted to look upon her in such a way. The moment we share is in no way profound or life changing but I am still irritated when Ginny makes me break the eye contact with a murmur of “Oh bugger.” Before she waves out across the table catching her King with the back of her hand so he falls onto the black and white tiles of the board, forfeiting the match to me. I frown slightly in exasperation having not had the pleasure of the final checkmate. She throws her hands up and leans back once more. “I’m never playing chess with you again.”

 

“So I should suffer because you’re a sore loser?” I ask only able to keep back my sniggers my letting my lips lift in a smirk.

 

“You said you could play.” She points an accusing finger in my directions and I am beginning to think that untamed hand gestures run in the family. “You didn’t say you were bloody good.”

 

Hermione sighs at our antics, lowering herself into her seat and opening the dust covered book, quickly dropping her eyes to it and immersing herself in the printed word.

 

“Oh come on Weasley.” I start trying to provoke her into another game; I freely admit that I had been enjoying the time spent at the board. It is difficult for me to find someone willing to play. “You won one game.”

 

“Yeah, you let me win.”

 

I raise my eyebrows in a show of innocence; of which I am sure cannot have looked in any way genuine. “Did I?”

 

Watching as doubt clouds her mind for a moment, already I know that she will play again if only to prove to herself that her one win was not a fluke. “Oh,” She says taking her wand from the tabletop, pointing the tip to the fallen pieces ready to repair them. “It’s so on.”

 

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Dinner rolled around as the last dwindling rays of light clung to the horizon and at the constant urging of my two companions I was convinced to leave the hall after a very small bland meal, both of them becoming distressed at the thought of me exposed to so much so soon after the new development of my senses.

 

Hermione with one arm curled around her book and the fingers of her other hand laced tightly through mine, slowly begins to climb the stairs leading to the northern tower, bringing us closer to her room. “So.” She pauses and throws a look up in my direction. “What have you been doing with Ginny all day?”

 

“This and that.” I answer vaguely, knowing that she will disapprove of our brief fly around the Quidditch pitch for much of the early morning.

 

She makes a small grumble in the back of her throat but she is smiling at me so I assume that I will not be receiving a lecture over my secretive ways. “Just so long as you didn’t do anything illegal.”

 

“I almost get the feeling you don’t trust me.”

 

“You I trust, to some extent at least.” She begins in a teasing voice. “Ginny though, has been spending far to much time with Fred and George.”

 

“I see.” I make a show of mulling this over before continuing our banter. “So you’re frightened she’ll rub off on me.”

 

She laughs at this but makes no comment and we fall into very comfortable silence.

 

Her questions do bring up some things that are puzzling me. I have spent a great portion of the day with a girl I know very little of, with no agenda of my own and very little productivity came out of it. Even though I have to admit I have enjoyed my time with the gutter mouthed redhead and I cannot for the life of me think why. We have done nothing more than jest and play, there is no feeling of accomplishment but there is something else. Some thought or feeling that I can’t put words to.

 

“Is something bothering you?” Hermione asks. Dragging me from my inner musing with a look of concern on her face.

 

I think to brush away her apprehension but realise I have been doing far too much of that over the past two days and there is a question that I must have answered.  “Just something Ginny said.”

 

“Oh.” She says as a way of provoking a more detailed explanation.

 

“This morning she…” I pause for a moment and not for the first time since being invited into this small group feel out of my element. “She said I was her friend.”

 

The confusion is easy to see on her face. “And this surprises you?” Her voice is curious as if she doesn’t quite know where I am going with this revelation.

 

“She meant it.” When she used the word she had not look at me intently, waiting for me to see some hidden meaning within its depths. It slipped out in passing giving me the notion that there had been genuine feeling behind it.

 

She pulls to a stop at her doorway and turns to gaze up at me. “You make it sound like you’ve never had friends before Jamie.”

 

“I thought I had, at one time.” I pause, examining not only the actions of the Gryffindors but also my own thoughts and feelings surrounding them. “I’m beginning to learn I may have been wrong.”

 

Her fingers sneeze in mine for a moment before she loosens they’re hold to whisper her password and push open the door. When she turns back towards me her smile looks almost sad. “Well. Looks like we can teach you a few things for once.”

 

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There I said I was going to give her a good day. There was some pain in there but I gave her a friend I think that was very nice of me. Has nothing at all to do with how much fun writing Ginny is, I hope she’s true to the book I’ll have a read over soon as see how far out I am but to be honest… don’t care she’s staying like this.