Arisen

DISCLAIMER: I did not create these characters. The credit goes to J.K. Rowling.
SPOILER WARNING: If you haven\'t read all of the books, you are in danger.

Chapter One - Some Gone Astray

She watched him. It seemed that’s all she’s been doing lately: watching. There was nothing she could do about it; it came naturally, like a sixth sense. She could not turn her eyes away. So she watched him fly. A gust of wind came up and blew her bright red hair into her eyes but she took no notice. Her eyes were firmly locked on him, weaving in and out of the red and green, his eyes darting about almost lazily. He was born to fly, she decided.

“Ginny,” hissed a voice in her ear, “you mustn’t. You know you mustn’t. Nothing good can come of it. You’ll only be hurt.” The wisdom of the words hit her and stung her eyes.

She turned to her friend, “You know how I feel, Hermione,” she said, her voice quivering slightly, “I should be out there but I’m not and it’s because of him. You know it is.” Ginny’s head turned back towards the pitch. “Look!” she shouted, wide eyed.

A shudder ran through the crowd as the two seekers hurtled downwards. His hand reached out to grasp the snitch. He was going to grab it. He was going to win. Then the other’s hand swept his pale one away. It wasn’t much but it was enough. However, it didn’t seem to be enough for everyone else. Her eyes widened in horror as a bludger came hurtling towards his head. He was still twenty feet above the ground and falling off his broom was not a good idea. But he had no choice. Just like she had no choice but to watch - to watch him falling, falling. It seemed to take forever. She managed to clamp her eyes shut just before his body crunched against the ground.

Hermione was just able to grab Ginny as she tried to make her way to the pitch. Now words were spoken but the look on her face said it all. “You mustn’t.” Ginny understood this and felt helpless as Madam Pomfrey was ushered towards his still form. From where they were in the stands, she could see a trickle of blood contrasting wonderfully with his hair. It was painfully beautiful.

~~~~~

He woke up many hours later in the infirmary. There was no sunlight and no candles were lit. It was pitch black. Something stirred at the foot of his bed and he started. He saw the faint outline of someone shifting uncomfortably. “Who’s there?” he whispered. Loud noises hurt his head.

The body shifted again but this time a voice came with it, “It’s me.” This caused him to smile, though the girl couldn’t see it.

“I’m glad,” he said shortly and he drifted back to sleep.

~~~~~

Two days later, life was back to normal. Classes were boring, the food was delicious and her feelings, well, they were her feelings. Ginny had gone down to breakfast Monday morning to find both Harry and Malfoy with bandages wrapped around their heads. She hadn’t noticed that they both got hit by the bludger; she had only seen him. As she crossed the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table, she wondered if anyone had noticed her, almost in tears, as he fell to the ground. She hoped not.

Ginny sat down next to her brother, across from Harry and Hermione sitting side by side. Both Harry and Hermione seemed to be staring at her intently as she stacked her plate; Hermione accusingly and Harry dazedly, his eyes glazed over.

Next to her, Ron was shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate. Poor simple Ron. He never noticed anything. Quietly, she ate.

~~~~~

As a result of students dropping out of various subjects, class sizes were reduced. To compensate for reduced class sizes, they had to merge all four houses together for N.E.W.T. level classes. This meant that Harry would be in close confines with Draco Malfoy, especially so in Transfiguration and Potions where they sat next to each other. Monday consisted of double Transfiguration and double Potions. It was torture.

This Monday was no different. As usual, Harry moped into the classroom with Ron and Hermione. Frowning, he took his seat beside Malfoy. McGonagall made them all take notes on advanced Human Transfiguration. Then they partnered off with the person that sat next to them. Malfoy.

The task was to choose an animal and transfigure your partner into that animal. Harry knew exactly what he was going to choose for his partner. He grinned. Draco Malfoy; The Amazing Bouncing Ferret. Looking over at Malfoy’s disgruntled expression made Harry chuckle. Apparently, Malfoy remembered that day very well.

“Alright, Potter,” said Malfoy, drawling as usual, “I’ll go first.” Fear swept over Harry and the image of the bouncing white ferret was driven from his mind. He didn’t even notice when Malfoy waved his wand and muttered a few chosen words; more words then he was supposed to.

As Harry shrunk, he heard Ron and Hermione stop their bickering to gasp. Harry got the feeling that he didn’t want to see himself. “Come on Potter,” he heard Malfoy sneer, “don’t you want to see your dear old godfather again?”

At these words, Harry’s ears perked up and he let out a low growl. He trotted over to the mirror that was kept in the back corner of the room. When he saw his reflection, that day at the Ministry, almost two years ago, flashed before his eyes. He saw Sirius and Bellatrix dueling, he saw a bright red jet of light hit Sirius square in the chest, he heard himself screaming his name. Worst of all, he felt the pain of knowing it was all his fault.

The images playing through his mind stopped and he stopped himself - no he saw Sirius - in the shape of a spectral dog. Bones and rotting flesh were prominent on the body. Maggots could be seen diving in and out of the meat: feasting. Matted black fur remained in fading patches. Harry’s - no Sirius’ eyes examined the decaying corpse, taking in every horrific detail. His teeth were intact but were covered in stinking blood. His eyes were non-existent. Empty sockets took their place. The infinite darkness within attracted him like a moth to a flame. He stared deeper and deeper into the empty sockets and drew further and further into the dark. The blackness engulfed him. He did not want to leave. He couldn’t leave. Harry passed out.

~~~~~

She blinked away the tears that burned at her eyes. The poor boy; he had already suffered so much. Why must he suffer more? Quickly, she gathered herself together. She was supposed to set an example. How though? How was she supposed to set an example when her students were collapsing because of the unseen terrors residing in their souls? She wouldn’t be able to but for the sake of her students she could pretend.

~~~~~

Hermione was delegated the task of bringing Harry’s limp form up to the infirmary. Professor McGonagall had changed Harry back in an instant. She had paused quickly to check on Harry and then began to berate Malfoy with no mercy. It would’ve been wonderful to see Malfoy quailing underneath the onslaught. It would’ve been. She was too busy crying beside the body that only faintly resembled Sirius’ animagus form. Knowing that it was actually Harry made it worse. No one actually knew why she was crying except for Ron, Professor McGonagall and Malfoy. To everyone else, it looked as if she was crying because it was Harry. They all thought that she was in love with him.

She had just reached the doors to the infirmary when the bell rang. She hurried through the doors with Harry and told Madam Pomfrey everything she had to know. Only what she had to know - nothing more. The less people knew the better.

Hermione went back to Transfiguration where the class had continued almost normally: almost. Ron and Malfoy were staring daggers at each other and only stopped when she entered the room. In fact, the whole room stopped. After a few seconds, the scattered babble broke out again.

As she took her seat next to Ron, Hermione chanced a glance at Malfoy. He was staring back and their eyes met. His mouth broke into an evil smirk and his eyes glittered demonically. “Evil git,” she spat at him through gritted teeth. He was rather easy on the eyes, she decided as an afterthought. She almost swore out loud.

~~~~~

He found that his feet had taken control of his body. They led him up the stairs, one by one, knowingly. He just had to see her; he had to. Of course, he knew where she would be. She would be making her way up to the infirmary to see Potter. He just had to see her, touch her, feel her. Quietly, he swore at himself. What had come over him to make him act this way? Probably just one too many bludgers to the head.

Footsteps. He knew the tread. It was her. Quickly and silently, he slipped behind a tapestry and into a dimly lit passageway. She was getting closer, closer. She was right outside. He ripped back the tapestry, grabbed her roughly from behind and dragged her back into his hiding spot. No scream came from her mouth.

“Malfoy,” she said incredulously, “what the hell…?”

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.” He didn’t want her to start blabbering away like she always did. She would never stop then. “Shut up,” he repeated again, quieter this time. His hands grabbed her. She yelped in pain. “Good…good God I am going to enjoy this.” He laughed bitterly.

“Mal…” she began but it was too late to protest. He had thrown her to the ground and in an instant was upon her, lips on her own. Ferociously, he forced her mouth open, driving his tongue deep into her throat. Her body lost the tenseness immediately as the kiss deepened. She did not fight and couldn’t argue. She wanted it as much as he did now. Her tongue met his and they began dancing, twirling, circling.

He paused now to grab his wand and pointed it in the air. “Silencio exitas.” Now turning his wand on her, he muttered the spell that all seventeen year old boys knew.

~~~~~

It felt good. There was no doubt about that. It felt right. That’s what scared her. He had been hasty, not that she had minded. His entrance had been quick, hurried. It hurt - not that it mattered. She found now that she couldn’t stop thinking about him - that she couldn’t get rid of that itch within her.

The itch worsened as the night went on. Finally, at one o’clock in the morning, after she was sure everyone in her dormitory was fast asleep, she started to scratch it. Frantically, her finger moved back and forth, faster and faster. It was moving left-right, up-down, round and round. With a moan of dissatisfaction, she removed her finger. The itch remained.

She cursed under her breath, “Damn that Ronald Weasley!”

~~~~~

Ron was lying awake in bed, face down in the pillow. What had he just done? It wasn’t like him to lose control like that. Usually, he was a pretty self contained guy.

All he could do was scream into his pillow. “Great,” Ron muttered, “I just had to go and fuck things up, didn’t I?” He couldn’t help but think of her: the feel of her soft skin on his, the taste of her lips, the way she tightened around him. It was all too much. Quickly, Ron slid his hands under his pajama bottoms. His eyes rolled into the top of his head as his hands slid up and down. His eyes closed and a low moan escaped his mouth just as he heard the curtains around his four-poster open.

“Ronald Weasley,” came the voice, “get your hands out of your pants!”

Slowly, he opened his eyes. There she was - the girl who he was wanking off to - standing with her hand on her hip and her head tilted to the right. Ron’s voice got caught in his throat. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he managed to rasp out her name.

“Ginny!”