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A Secret Thought: Chapters 35 - 37

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1 A Secret Thought: Chapters 35 - 37 on Thu Nov 25, 2010 2:19 am

Mrs.KreszentiaBlack

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Chapter 35 - Close My Eyes
“I hope you find all of your accommodations suitable, Miss Vinnopal,” Dumbledore said sweetly. He had an unused classroom near his office fixed with a password and changed to suit the young woman… or old woman.

“Albus, I’m quite a bit older than you, and I think you are quite aware of that. Please don’t call me Miss Vinnopal. You never did so when I was helping you so many years ago,” she laughed quietly.

“Yes, well though you may be older you look many years younger,” Dumbledore said. The girl used her cane and dragged it along the floor. It hit the bed and she blindly pressed her hands against the soft cushions. She smiled.

“Thank you very much for doing this.”

“No, thank you for coming as soon as possible. When you sent me an owl requiring residency here and permission to train Harry Potter, I was quite astounded,” Dumbledore revealed to her.

“Albus, I trained you how to detect power! Surely you’ve felt the incredible amounts radiating off of the boy!”
Dumbledore looked at the blind girl sadly.

“No Amy, I fear that I cannot…”

“Oh dear,” Amy sighed, turning and walking briskly towards the door.

“What is it?”

“I fear if I do not intervene soon… there is a young woman who is on the verge of murder,” she said and disappeared throughout the door, leaving Dumbledore awestruck.


“Of course I’m not shagging him!” Hermione cried out, clutching her blouse tightly around her chest as red color filled her cheeks. This did not look good. This did not look good one bit.

“THEN WHAT THE RUDDY HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Ginny screamed in anger at Hermione. Was the tumor in her head causing her to go completely insane? This was Draco Malfoy! The intolerable prick that had been their mortal enemy for the past six years… seven to Hermione!

“Weasley, it’s none of your business…” Malfoy started, stepping towards the red-faced red headed girl.

“WAS I TALKING TO YOU? NO! BACK OFF!” Ginny screamed at Malfoy near the top of her lungs. Malfoy flinched at her screams, but instead of backing off it just provoked his anger.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in such a tone, you filthy weasel! You are not fit to clean the mud off my shoes let alone treat me as an inferior!” he snapped at her, his full moon on the water eyes flickering in rage.

“Malfoy! How dare you say such things?” Hermione hissed in shock.

“SEE, HERMIONE! HE’S SEDUCED YOU! HE’S STILL THE SAME JACKASS…”

“GINNY WEASLEY, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE!” Hermione shouted.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME THE PROPER WAY TO BEHAVE WHEN I FIND YOU HALF DRESSED, SNOGGING THE DAYLIGHTS OUT OF DRACO MALFOY?!” Ginny screamed at Hermione, clenching her fists tightly.

“If you would just let me explain…”

“NO! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR REASONINGS! I WANT TO BELIEVE YOU’VE LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND!”

“Will you stuff being so insufferable and narrow minded?” Malfoy snapped at Ginny. Ginny turned on him, hissing through clenched teeth.

“What do you think you’ve been for your entire life? Your relentless insults and constant bitching…”

“Ginny Weasley!”

“Have driven everyone insane! You call me narrow minded when you believe that no one is good enough unless their rich and pure blooded?” Ginny continued, ignoring Hermione’s shock at her bad language.

“Are you really so stupid that you believe that? If I thought that way about pure bloods anymore would I be in love with Hermione? And if I felt that way about money would I be civil to you?” Draco hissed.

“You aren’t in love with Hermione! THE ONLY PERSON THAT YOU HAVE EVER LOVED IS YOURSELF!”

“YOU’RE JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE YOU CAN’T STAND THE THOUGHT OF HERMIONE HAVING SOMEONE, WHILE YOU’RE STUCK MOPING OVER THE LATEST BOY WHO DECIDED YOU’RE WORTH AS MUCH AS YOU OWN… NOTHING!”

With that, Ginny froze. Her hair seemed to stand on end and she let out a fearsome shriek and threw herself at Malfoy, her eyes bulging in rage. Malfoy cried out and leaned backwards, trying to deflect the clawing and hitting aimed at him.

“Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!” Hermione screamed in fury and anguish, watching Ginny attempt to tear apart Malfoy.

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Ginny screeched and dug her fingernails into the side of Malfoy’s face; ripping away three strips of his skin, causing blood to trickle down his pale skin.

“GET OFF OF ME!”

“YOU UGLY FERRET!”

“STOP IT!”

“OW! THAT’S MY HAIR!”

“YOU WON’T HAVE HAIR LEFT ONCE I’M THREW WITH YOU!”

“STOP IT!”

“YOU BIT ME!”

“I’M NOT THROUGH WITH YOU YET!”

“ENOUGH!” a voice screamed, though it did not belong to any of the three. Hermione whipped around towards the door just to see the young woman from the day before, Amy, rushing in.

She threw her cane down and held both of her arms out straight in front of her, her palms pressed against one another. With one swift movement she spread her arms apart and held them straight out at her sides.

There were frightened and astonished screams as an invisible force ripped both Ginny and Malfoy away from one another. They both rolled to a stop, twenty feet away from one another. Malfoy hit his head on the leg of a chair with a groan.

The girl looked angry and flustered, her eyes blank. She did not look at any of them. Hermione looked at her in astonishment.

“Amy… how… how’d you… how’d you see them… how’d you do that?” She asked, her eyes flickering at the two of them, both stumbling as they stood up. The girl turned to face Hermione. The girl was not blind, and she was too flustered to sense that the stuttering was not from disbelief but from something else…

“The anger from the girl… it was practically burning me. And I could smell the boy’s blood, anger, and love… it was such a sour and sweet mix,” she whispered more to herself and then acted as if she had a nasty taste in her mouth.
Amy’s blank eyes almost seemed to look around the room, though you couldn’t really tell. Her face stared straight at Ginny, who cowered in fear at the sight of Amy.

“You. You’re coming with you,” she demanded simply.

“What? No! I don’t even know who you are!” Ginny cried out, glaring at Amy. Amy did not even ask again. She reached out and raised her hand into the air. Ginny screamed out in horror and fear as she was lifted off the ground several feet, levitating. No one even noticed Hermione falter in her step and her eyes flutter uncontrollably.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said simply and walked with Ginny floating through the air in front of her, leaving the room mid air and with no choice as to the situation.

“Put me down! Do you hear me? You can’t get away with this! You can’t…” Ginny was cut off by the sound of the portrait closing. Malfoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair before looking at Hermione.

Her shirt was still open and she looked flustered. She seemed oddly pale, though. Her eyes flickered a bit, and her skin seemed cool and clammy.

“Hermione? Hermione!” he cried, rushing up to her. He wrapped his arms around her. Her skin felt cool and plastic-like. She didn’t even seem real.

“Malfoy… I’m all right… I really am…” she whispered. Her breathing increased, her bare chest pressing continually and rapidly against his bare chest. Only this time it did not excite him… it frightened him.

“Hermione, we need to get you to the Hospital Wing!” he cried out, tears stinging his full moon on the water eyes. Her chocolate ones could barely focus on his face. She strained and gave him a weak smile.

“Draco… no need to worry… I just… I just need to lie down for a moment,” she whispered as blood started to flow from her nose. She opened her mouth, her teeth stained pink and her tongue too dark.

“Oh no…” he cried out, a teardrop falling from his eye and landing on her cheek. She closed her eyes and whispered.

“I just need to… close my eyes… for a moment…”

And she collapsed in his arms.


Chapter 36 - Trust Me
Draco was walking, half alive, and half dead to the world. Hermione’s limp body was in his arms. The blood ran down her cheeks and face, staining her pale skin. Tears spilled over his eyelids, and he just blinked slowly with each drop that fell.

He could not hear the screams of the students as they saw Hermione. All he could hear was his own heart beat, loud and thick, pounding his eardrums repeatedly. He wanted nothing more than for that loud, abrupt noise to stop. He wanted nothing more than peace. He wanted nothing more than to be with Hermione.

Every step was heavy. Every step was like wading through water. Though the water was not water. It was blood. It was the blood of all the people he had hurt. The blood of all the pain he had caused.

Amy Vinnopal ran up to them, her blank eyes wide with horror. Dumbledore was at her side, his long strides swaying and the shouts of his powerful and commanding voice distant in his mind. They surrounded him. Dumbledore took Hermione from his arms and set her gently down on the floor, in the middle of the corridor.

Amy hovered over Hermione, whose chocolate eyes were cold and blank. Coagulated blood covered her face and stained the soft skin beneath her open shirt. He stood there, numb to everything.

Amy let her hands hover over the girl’s face for a moment before turning to look up at Draco. Her face was calm, impassive, and still the most horrible sight that Malfoy had ever seen.

The thudding of his heart ceased the endless beat in his ears and his rushing blood settled enough for words to cut his soul, sharp and clear.

“You killed her,” she whispered. His eyes widened. He could not look at Hermione’s blank eyes, staring at him judgingly and filled with hate and blame. He could not tear his eyes away from the cold white of Amy’s eyes. They were forever, endless, and eternity.

He stared into her eyes, his pupils burning and itching. He tried to scream at her to look away, but no sound escaped his lips.
The white seemed to spill from her eyes, reaching for him, reaching towards him. They spilled out slowly, blanking out Amy’s face, making Hermione disappear into the forever white.
But then with a high-pitched scream and shot in all directions in a powerful force that caused Malfoy to thrust his head backwards…

He closed his eyes…

He welcomed death…



Draco shot up in head, a bold sweat broken out on his forehead. It was all a dream. It had all been a horrible dream… but how much of it? He looked around frantically, realizing he was in the hospital wing.

“Hello! Hello? Is anyone there?” he croaked into the silence of the Hospital Wing. All the beds were empty, except for a single cot with curtains drawn tightly around it.

“Hermione…” he whispered and crawled from bed, ignoring the resistance his body made. He stumbled to the curtains. He fumbled with the folds, desperate to find an opening. He clawed at it, crying out in desperation. They wouldn’t let him in.

“Mr. Malfoy?” a sweet angelic, and still haunting voice asked. He spun around on one heel to see Amy Vinnopal standing in the doorway. She held her cane gently in front of her, the tip resting on the ground. He looked away. He could not bear to see the white of her eyes. He couldn’t stand to look at her.

“Get away from me!” he shouted, stumbling away from her and looking at the floor.


“Mr. Malfoy, what’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out for him. Her lip trembled. “Why are you so frightened? Mr. Malfoy!” she cried out. He continued to run away from her. He clawed again at the curtains.

“They won’t let me… I have to see her! Hermione!” he called out to her.

“She was given a dreamless sleep potion,” Amy said in a calming voice. “She was severely delirious when brought here. You, Mr. Malfoy, were catatonic.”

“What?”

“You were basically cut off from the world. It’s almost as if you were in a coma,” she explained. She could feel the fear of the nightmare slowly draining away. “You love her deeply,” she stated bluntly. Malfoy ran a hand over his face.

“Let me see her… please…” he begged pitifully. She nodded and the curtains were drawn aside magically, revealing Hermione lying peacefully in bed. Her skin was pale and the area around her mouth was lightly stained pink. She was so tiny, frail, and helpless…
He rushed to her side and took her hand in his, stroking it gently. He whispered sweet things to her, reassuring her that everything would be alright. That she’d pull through it.

“Why do you lie to her?” Amy asked, walking towards the two. Malfoy glared at her coldly.

“I’m not lying,” he hissed.

“You are. Deep down you know that she’s as good as dead. So why do you fill her and yourself with false hope of her recovery?” Amy asked. “I do not mean to be rude, I just don’t understand.”

“It makes things easier to deal with… to understand,” he whispered, realizing that with those spoken words he was admitting that Hermione’s death was inevitable. She cringed at the thought.

“And it is sure that she will die?” Amy asked sadly. Draco nodded and felt the tears sting his eyes bitterly. Gnawing on his lip, he stroked her hand again. She did not respond in any way, just remained in the suspended slumber.

“It is,” he replied out loud. Amy sighed loudly and began to make loud tracing noises with her cane as she dragged it around the ground. He watched her do so. She was doing something, and Draco could not understand it. He wished that she would just quit whatever she was doing.

“Who is Billy Harris?” she asked. Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, why do you ask?” She craned her neck a bit towards the door, as if she were listening.

“The… the Professors are talking about contacting a young man named Billy Harris about Hermione’s condition… apparently he’s a friend of hers… there’s something… there’s something there… that I can’t… god this sucks!” she stomped her foot angrily.
Her white eyes focused on him and he shivered, a flash of a dream returning to him.

“Don’t you hate it when you hear something, and you recognize it, but you can’t put your finger on it?” she asked in frustration. Draco nodded, not wishing to provoke the girl’s anger.
He remembered the feeling as he had been swung backwards through the air by just her power. It was as if a giant gust of wind had wrapped around he and Ginny and the two of them had been ripped apart.

He raised his fingers to his cheek and felt three, soft rises in his skin and he flinched. The Weaselette had gotten him good.

“Mr. Malfoy, do you trust me?” she asked all of a sudden in an amount of urgency that he was caught off guard. He studied her face, the anxiety in her white eyes causing the hair on his arms to rise.

“Erm… I suppose…” he mumbled.

“You must leave Hogwarts. I do not know how. I do not know why. All you need to know is that it is of the utmost urgency that you leave for Billy Harris’ home as soon as possible. That means now!” she hissed. His robes were thrown quickly into his arms.
He dressed without asking questions, but as soon as his robes were on, he looked at her curiously.

“What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?” he demanded to know. “How do I get there?” he asked. Amy rushed forward, taking his hands in hers. Her hands were soft, cold and clammy. Yet beneath the cold skin lay warmth that made him tingle. He could literally feel her power.

“You must go. You must listen. Do not keep secrets. Say everything. You will get there…” she whispered. “If you trust me.”

“What? I said yes, I trust you!” he hissed at her. “Now tell me what the bloody hell is going on!” he snapped. His eyes flickered over to a sleeping Hermione.
Amy Vinnopal brought his attention back by slapping hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look directly at her.

“Trust me,” she answered again. His eyes felt like they were being absorbed into Amy’s. They were leaking from his eyes, slowly dotting out the world around him…

Fear filled his heart. It was just like his nightmare. Just like that horrible dream…

He began to struggle, but then he remembered Hermione lying there so helpless on the bed, with no one to help her. He sighed and clenched his teeth together, balling his hands into fists.

I must stay strong for her… I trust you…

With that his world was lost in an eruption of pure white power, but this time he was not lost in death, but in life…

He was suspended there until he came crashing down into reality… in the Harris’ living room.


Chapter 37 - Power
Harry stood there, pacing the room. He waited patiently for her to arrive. Amy had said after breakfast, hadn’t she? What was she going to teach him? What were they going to discuss?

He thought about Hermione. He hoped she was all right. The Hogsmeade trip this weekend… he and Ron would take her. They’d spend the entire day doting upon her and simply being her best friends. Tears stung his eyes… he was going to lose her…

The portrait swung open to Ginny’s loud yells.

“Put me down! Now! Let go of me this instant! I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t just go around levitating people! It’s wrong! It’s against my right! Put me down! Put me down NOW!” Ginny scolded Amy as she floated through the air. She clung to her skirt, trying to keep herself decent. Her face was red and Harry had never seen her more aggravated.
Amy lowered her hand and Ginny let out a yelp and fell to the floor with a hard knock.

“Glad to see that you’ve decided to meet me, Mr. Potter,” she said lightly with a casual smile on her face, looking a few feet to Harry’s right.

“Erm… I’m over here, and please call me Harry.”

“Harry it is, then,” she said with a nod. She began to pace about him, not looking at him, but seeming to be intent on figuring something out. She licked her lips and sighed. She turned to face him.
She was definitely odd.

“Err… what are you doing?” Harry asked. His eyes scanned over her pretty face and he sighed, wishing that he weren’t blind, wishing that she could see him.

“Harry, I do see you. I see a part of you that no one else does,” she whispered in a shadow of a voice. He paled.

“You can read my mind?” he asked, his voice cracking. She let off a smirk.

“Well, being born without sight, I can’t exactly read anything. I can more… hear them,” she giggled. “But if you wish for me to see you on a physical level… come towards me,” she said, motioning for him to step forward.
He did so awkwardly, feeling his face beginning to grow warm.

She reached out and ran her fingers along the skin on his face. Her fingers felt like silk. Her touch was like that of a butterfly gently landing on your face. It was sweet and gentle. It was caressing and lovely.
Harry tingled.

“Mm… medium complexion,” she whispered, running her hands along his skin. “With a blush in your cheeks. High, defined cheek bones and a very strong chin. Your nose is straight and dignified, with a small lump here from where your glasses perch,” she said with a smirk. She ran her fingers delicately over the frames. “Round spectacles.”

He bit his lip in concentrating on thinking about Quidditch as she raised her hands towards his hair. She ran her fingertips through it, mussing it up, stroking it and massaging his scalp. The touch was erotic… but he couldn’t think about that. NO…

“Black hair. I could tell you the color of your eyes, but I doubt you want me sticking my fingers in them… it might hurt,” she told him and brought her hands away from his face.
He wanted her hands touching him again… Quidditch Game on Saturday! Must practice more… Fire in her touch… Firebolt!

Amy turned and tried to hide the smirk on her face, but Harry saw and turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Very well. Harry, I need you to understand something before we begin. You possess an amount of power that surpasses anything I have ever even dreamed of. You’re pulsing with raw energy and emotion. You have more power than I will ever achieve in my life, and that is going to be a very long one,” she explained to him, shrugging casually.

“So what did you want with me?”

“I want to help you control your emotions. There are going to be times in your life, and I don’t need to be eccentric to know this, and your emotions will get out of control. You are also known for your temper, mind you.”

“So you’re going to teach me how to turn off my emotions?” Harry asked in disbelief. Amy looked taken back.

“No! No of course not! I want to turn your anger into power. I want your raw energy to be used to its full potential… but Harry, I don’t want it to come from somewhere dark. I don’t want you to have no control over it at all. I know all about the window… the table… and especially the commotion you caused after the last nightmare.”

“What commotion?”

“When you dreamt you murdered Sirius and Hermione. It was like the school was going through an earthquake… Ron and I could barely even come near you!” Ginny said from her seat at the couch. Harry hadn’t noticed her there.

“Do you mind?” Harry shot at her. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“You’re right, it’s none of my business. Damn me for trying to help, you know!” She muttered and bustled up the stairs. “And levitation person… you levitate me again and I won’t be so good at keeping secrets,” she warned as she disappeared.

“What was that about?” Harry asked but Amy did not answer.

“Are you ready for your first lesson?” she asked. Harry was taken back.

“What… now?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes. What I’m going to do is going to be a form of Legilimency…” Harry cringed. “You remember, don’t you?” she asked with a sigh. Harry nodded.
He remembered Occlumency. He remembered the lessons… how drained he had been… how vulnerable to Voldemort…

“I can’t! It won’t make me stronger, it will make me weak!” he cried out. Amy shook her head.

“No, Harry. It won’t. I said this is a form of Legilimency. There will be no spells. There will be no counter-spells. You will not go through any physical pain. Nothing that you see will be real. What it will do is bring forth your anger, pain, and frustration. I’m going to teach you how to turn that into pure power, not dark power. Do you understand?”

“Erm… I suppose. Sort of like taking something bad and making good out of it, right?”

“Precisely. It is sort of like a car accident victim talking to people who were arrested for reckless driving. Another example is someone in a wheelchair in a wheelchair race for fundraising. Only this is much more important,” she explained.
Harry nodded, taking a deep breath, preparing himself.

“Okay… what do I do?” he asked.

“When you feel your anger rising, when you feel your frustration taking over, do not try to repress it. Do you understand?” she asked. He cocked his head and stared at her in confusion.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“When you feel this way, focus it into something. While you’re feeling this anguish, focus the power and the emotion into doing something. Until you have complete control over your power, though, NEVER focus it on a person. Remember… do not focus it on a person…”
He felt her hands run over his chest and he was filled with pleasant tingles. With a deep exhale, he felt her hands run over his neck and then through his hair once again. It felt almost like foreplay.

She was massaging his scalp, and he felt something in his mind being brought forth as he sunk back. He felt it growing as he disappeared into what lay hidden in his mind…

Harry looked around. He was in a field. It was a field of sunflowers. The sun was shining brightly and warmly down on his face, and he felt at perfect peace. He looked around, smiling at the pure beauty in the scenery.

“I was wondering when you’d arrive,” a cold voice said. Harry turned and saw a young man standing there. He wore white robes, a white shirt, and white pants. Splattered over his eerie, pure white outfit was blood. Red streaked and smeared over his clothes. His vibrant green eyes were leering at him from behind round spectacles, and messy black hair was sticking out in odd places.

This white-donned blood covered man… was Harry.

“What… what’s going on?” Harry asked in confusion. What had Amy done? Where was this place? What as going on? He stared at the Other walking towards him. The sunflowers wilted away with every step he took.
Harry stumbled backwards, fear trickling down his back.

“We’re in your mind, Harry. We are now in the place where your most gruesome fears have come to truth.”

“That’s impossible!” Harry cried. He stumbled backwards, watching in horror. He tripped over something and landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

“It is possible. You made it happen, Harry.”

Harry rubbed his head and stared at his feet… Hermione lay dead on the ground, a burn on her clothes over her heart. Her eyes were wide and glassy.

“No!” Harry screamed and crawled backwards, his hand landing on top of something that sank beneath the pressure. He turned and saw that it had been Ron’s hand…
The entire Weasley family sat there, dead, staring at him with their throats all sliced open. Fred and George had no laughter in their eyes, Billy’s long cool hair had been ripped from his scalp. Ginny Weasley lay violated and torn in front of him, her head resting against Arthur Weasley’s shoulder.
Charlie and Percy were sprawled out on either side, their faces ripped and torn to a point where it was nearly unrecognizable.
Ron was closest though. He must have been tied to some sort of pole because his back was ramrod straight. His jaw was slack and his eyes were blank, but they followed Harry everywhere, judging, hating, and blaming. His vibrant red hair was caked with coagulated blood and a gaping slash in his neck still bled onto his Chudley Cannon’s shirt, a Quaffle tucked under his arm.

Each of them had the Dark Mark burned… more melted… into the soft skin right between their eyes.

“No! Oh god no… how could I have let this happen? How could I have let Voldemort kill all of them?” Harry sobbed angrily.

“Voldemort didn’t do it… you did,” The Other replied with a hateful sneer.

Harry felt his mind being torn, hate, anger, and blame filling his heart and head. He had forgotten it wasn’t real. He could smell the stench of their dead bodies, feel the blood on the air, and taste the pain and anguish…

“Focus it, Harry!” a distant voice called out to him.

He nodded. With heavy breaths… what to focus it on? He pictured the table in the Common Room… the table… the table… make it spin… make it dance…
He stood, trying to run away from the Weasley’s dead bodies… run away from the blood… from what he had done…

Make it spin… make it dance… make it tremble… make it twirl… make it fly…


“Harry!” someone screamed, shaking his shoulders. His eyes fluttered open, but it wasn’t Amy who was doing so. Ginny was doing it. She was breathless and flustered; her cheeks flushed and worry in her eyes.

“Amy… Amy told me… to keep… an eye… on you…” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath.

“Where is she?” he demanded to know.

“Hospital Wing… Hermione … attack…”

Ginny screamed as the debris from the table that had once been all of a sudden burst back into life and put itself together… she stared at Harry who was concentrating on it deeply…

He stormed from the room, leaving Ginny staring in disbelief at the table.

Had Harry destroyed and reassembled the table through simply wishing it?

Was Harry Potter really that powerful?



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