Motherfucker! Lucius hadnt used anything but the knife before. Preferring a
more refined form of torture, he never appeared to want to get physical
enough to work up a sweat, so Harry never saw it coming.
Harry would have screamed then if he couldve drawn breath. Instead, he
drew his legs up into himself involuntarily, trying to curl into a ball, trying to
protect them from further harm. Hanging now just by his arms, Harry
moaned in misery as pain radiated out from his balls, into his gut, down his
legs, and still he couldnt draw a breath as a wave of nausea rolled over him
and stars flared in his vision.
Hed changed his mind. This round definitely went to Lucius.
Nothing to say now, Mr. Potter? Lucius asked with a smirk. Then he stuck
his finger into the fresh wound hed opened on Harrys shoulder, digging in
the flesh.
Harry finally sucked in a great lungful of air and let it out on a scream.
Harry jerked awake, his heart pounding. Surging with adrenaline, his mouth
opened in a scream, but there was no sound. His whole body was aching in
real and remembered pain as he stared wildly around the room. He had no
idea where he was. Hed expected to find himself in the torture room at
Malfoy Manor, but he wasnt. Then Hermione was there, leaning over him,
stroking his face and hand while he shook all over in terror.
Its okay, Harry, she assured him as she wiped the sweat from his
forehead. Its just a dream. Its not real.
But she was wrong. It was real. He could still feel the ache in his chest from
the damage Lucius had inflicted. He knew that was reality. This, Hermione
here with him, lying on a comfortable bed, safe, that was the dream. That
was a trick of his mind.
After a few more panicked moments, his mind rolled through everything that
had happened. Everything he could remember played back for him like a film
starting up in his head; captured, tortured, raped. He remembered Lucius,
Bellatrix, Greyback, Snape, Hermione, and Draco, then the Burrow and
The next time he opened his eyes, it was completely dark in the room, and
he was flat on his back. Blinking slowly, drowsily, he tried to get his eyes
accustomed to the dark. Trying to decide where he was then because he was
entirely too comfortable to be in the torture room. Then he heard Rons soft
snoring nearby. It was a sound so familiar to him from all their time together
in the tent this last year, from sharing a dorm at Hogwarts for six years, from
sleeping on a camp bed in Rons room when he visited over the summer and
Christmas holidays. It was a comforting sound, and with his whole body
feeling pleasantly numb, he was still too sleepy to care much right now
where he was.
He heard the soft rustle of the sheets, a body shifting next to him and a small
sigh. Then a warm hand slid into his, squeezing his fingers slightly while
another hand curled around his upper arm. A floral scent filled his nostrils,
and he thought of Ginny. Then he knew that he was dreaming.
It was a bizarre dream where Ginny and Ron were both sleeping nearby. Ron
would never allow him to be this close to her at night, in bed, curled up next
to him so closely. Plus, hed promised Ron hed stay away from her, but this
was a dream, a good dream, and so he squeezed her fingers back, sighed
heavily, and closed his eyes.
Now then, she said. I want to start you on a liquid diet for a few days.
Give that jaw a little more time to heal. But some good warm broth in your
belly should feel so much better than just the nourishment potions youve
been on.
Immediately, his mouth began to water at the thought of food.
And finally, she continued. You need to get up and around as soon as
possible, Mr. Potter. Youve been immobile for far too long. Still, dont push
it. Youll be very weak. Ill leave instructions with Mr. Weasley and Miss
Granger. Patting his leg, she stood, gathering her bag. Ill send up some
soup, then. Take care of yourself, dear. Ill see you tomorrow. Then she left
the room.
Not five minutes later, Dobby suddenly appeared out of thin air next to Harry
on the bed with a loud pop. Harry jerked away from him in alarm. Trying to
scream again, his hands flew up to protect himself, and he tumbled
backwards off the bed, slamming his head on the bedside table as he went
down before landing painfully on his back, which knocked the breath out of
him.
Lying there on the floor as his vision swam, he tried to draw breath into lungs
that felt like theyd been flattened by the impact, while trying to understand
what the hell had just happened. Then Dobby was beside him again, looking
horrorstruck at Harry, tears welling in his enormous tennis-ball-sized eyes.
And then Ron was there, too. Harry flinched at the furious expression on his
face as he reached down for him, grabbed him by the upper arms, and pulled
him to his feet. Turning him so Harrys back was pressed against him, Ron
wrapped his arm around Harrys chest, bracing him in a one-armed hug as he
gripped Harry by the shoulder.
Ron was supporting most of his weight, pinning his arms to his sides, holding
Harry upright, which was good because Harry was so dizzy that if Ron let go,
he knew hed slide right back down him to the floor. His legs were trembling
so badly, it felt like someone had cast a jelly legs jinx on them, and he knew
they wouldnt support him at all. Madame Pomfrey wasnt lying when she
said hed be weak.
What the hell, Dobby? Ron yelled angrily as he probed the back of Harrys
head with his fingers.
Harry jerked in fright again at the anger in Rons voice and at the sharp stab
of pain from the lump growing on his head as Ron ran his fingers over it.
Gripped Rons forearm braced across his chest with both hands, Harry tried
to steady himself because the room was starting to spin.
surprise. Right then. Ron, why dont you take Dobby back downstairs, and
get him settled down? Ill give Harry his soup before it gets cold.
Yeah, all right, Ron agreed. Check his head, though. He nodded at Harry
as he walked towards the door. I think he hit it on the table. Its bleeding,
he told her over his shoulder as he carried Dobby back out of the room.
Hermione collected the tray and hurried around to Harrys side of the bed.
Placing it across his lap, she sat down on the edge next to him. Then pulling
his head forward by the back of the neck, she pressed his forehead into her
shoulder while she examined the knot throbbing on the back of his skull,
clucking her tongue as she ran her fingers over the swelling lump.
Harry was surprised again, taken aback at how both she and Ron were
manhandling him. Theyd become entirely too familiar with his body. Too
used to his silent compliance, they didnt ask his permission, or giving any
warning, or anything, before touching him, grabbing him, carrying him, for
Gods sake! It was starting to get annoying. He was awake now. Didnt they
know?
He jerked when she wadded up the napkin from the tray and pressed it hard
against the gash on his head. Damn, it stung! She held it there, putting
pressure on it to stop the bleeding, pressing his forehead harder into her
shoulder for a few more minutes, which felt good on his throbbing headache,
before dabbing at it again with the napkin and then releasing him.
Well, she said with a sigh, running her hands through his hair, feeling for
more injuries. I dont think there will be any permanent damage, but
Madame Pomfrey will have our hides for this. Are you hurt anywhere else?
she asked, dropping the napkin into her lap.
He shook his head, which was still resting on her shoulder. He felt lethargic,
his eyes drooping, too much excitement for him for one day, perhaps. Hed
been awake for more than two hours now, which was a record for him, he
reckoned. Still, he was eager to eat some of the soup Dobby brought up that
had smelled so delicious. So he lifted his head with effort because it felt like
it weighed a lot more than usual, and tried to stop the spinning of the room
by clutching the blanket in his fists.
Harry was only able to get about half the soup down before he was feeling
extremely full. With his belly rounded up, his eyes grew too heavy to stay
open on their own, and his head nodded forward. The soporific effect of the
warm broth in his stomach was just too much for him, or maybe it was from
the concussion he suspected he now had from the blow to his head. Either
way, he was going out again. He didnt feel Hermione remove the tray from
his legs, or remove some of the pillows from behind his head so he could lie
down, or the soft kiss she planted on his lips as she tucked the blanket back
around him.
The next time he woke was early evening. It may have been the same day.
He didnt know for sure. Hermione was propping pillows behind him,
elevating him while he blinked himself awake and tried to orient himself,
once again, to his surroundings. It was getting better though, he decided,
understanding coming back to him faster with fewer traumas this time.
He ached all over again, his back and shoulder stiff and head throbbing from
the backwards somersault hed done off the bed the last time hed been
awake.
Now for my next trick, he thought stupidly.
Im sorry to wake you, Harry, but its time for your potions again, she
apologized.
Clamping his mouth shut automatically, he shook his head, still not fully
awake. He didnt want any more potions, he thought mulishly, childishly. No
more potions, thank you! No potions that made him fall asleep, that made
him feel weak and light headed, that made his head feel like it was stuffed
with cotton and left his tongue feeling furry. No potions that tasted bad, that
tasted like pepper and made him wild with desire for her and then his
mind froze up at the memory, everything coming to a screeching halt, his
whole body going stiff.
His heart started to pound, and his mouth went dry. He was panicking again,
trembling all over at the memory of what theyd made him do to her,
catching him unprepared at the suddenness of the images flooding through
him. And she was much too close to him! He could smell the soap she used
on her skin, the shampoo in her hair, filling his nostrils with her scent,
making him remember what she smelled like then, what she felt like, his
aching body pressed against hers, inside her NO NO NO!
Kicking out wildly, frantically, Harry tried to scramble backwards, away from
her on the bed, though his limbs wouldnt obey him properly. He was terrified
of his bodys response to her, at the arousal he felt stirring in him at her
nearness. He was hysterical with fear as she continued to reach for him,
looking shocked at his violent reaction.
Sound was coming from him now, broken, raspy, terror-filled sounds, and a
crushing, burning weight was pressing down on his chest. Then he was
coughing again, the pain taking his breath away. Oh, God! He was falling
apart, and he couldnt stop it happening.
Then Ron was there, holding him down, and he was even more afraid.
Thrashing on the bed now, Harry tried to scream. His hands scrabbled at the
back of Rons wrists, trying to free himself, but Ron wouldnt let go. Lying on
top of him, across his chest, Ron pressed him into the mattress as his feet
thrummed on the bed in utter terror.
Petrificus Totalus! Hermione cried.
Harrys body immediately went stiff all over from the body bind curse shed
cast, ending his frantic attempt to escape them. The spell held him
immobile, but alert, as waves of panic rolled over him, and tears slid from
the corners of his eyes into his hair. Remembering when Bellatrix held him
under this curse in the torture room, he remembered the lessons shed
taught him then.
He wanted them to give him the fucking potions now, or to knock him in the
head, stun him, obliviate his memory, something, anything to knock him out
again, to stop the memories of that place, of what they did to him, and of
what he did to her. But they didnt. They talked quietly to him, trying to calm
him down again while his mind bombarded him with horrific images from the
dungeons of Malfoy Manor.
Ron whispered quietly to Hermione as he held her while she sobbed into his
shoulder. She was crying, and it was his fault. Hed made her cry again like
he had done then, but he didnt mean to. Hed tried not to hurt her. He
couldnt help it. He couldnt tell her how sorry he was, though he was
screaming it in his head, over and over again. Telling them both that he was
sorry, he was so sorry.
It was several minutes before Hermione stopped crying on Ron, and even
longer before the fear and panic flooded out of Harry, leaving him exhausted.
Yet still, they didnt release him. He continued to lay frozen on the bed as
Hermione and Ron left it, walking around the room, out of his limited line of
sight. It made him feel afraid again. Afraid that they wouldnt come back,
that theyd finally had enough of him, Harry feared that they had come to
their senses and left him for good. But then they were both beside him once
more, standing over him. Hermione lifted the spell at last, and his limp body
sank into the bed.
All right, she said, sniffling. Lets try this again. Everythings going to be
okay, Harry. Ron and I arent trying to hurt you, she told him sternly,
sounding like she had a bad head cold.
Ron smiled at the look on his face before rolling his eyes at Harry in a
familiar gesture that clearly said, Shes mental, that one. Then he clapped
his hands together and said, All right, then. More delicious broth for you for
dinner, and then youre getting your nails clipped, Harry.
Lifting the back of his hands to Harry, Ron showed him the scratches hed left
on them while Hermione called for Dobby, who appeared again suddenly in
the room, glancing sheepishly at Harry. She spoke quietly to him for a
moment, and he vanished again with a pop, returning moments later with
another bowl of steaming broth. It was chicken this time, and Harrys
stomach growled loudly when the scent filled his nostrils, feeling suddenly
ravenous again.
Harry stubbornly insisted on feeding himself, but found that he was
extremely clumsy, which caused Dobby to have to anxiously mop him up
after every bobbled spoonful or dribbled attempt. His hands were still too
swollen from sleep and disuse to grasp the spoon firmly enough, even with
his good hand. It trembled badly, the spoon clanking against the side of the
bowl every time he spooned up another mouthful and tried to steer it
towards his lips. It must have looked comical, or just pathetic, but no one
said a word.
Finally admitting defeat, Harry turned the spoon over to Dobby. The elf
appeared utterly delighted to feed Harry the rest of the soup, happily poking
spoonfuls into his mouth while Hermione took the opportunity to trim his
overlong, ragged nails down to the quick.
There, thats much better, Hermione declared when she had finished both
hands, and he waved off another spoonful of soup. He couldnt hold
anymore. Dobby seemed distressed that he hadnt finished it all, but he just
couldnt.
Hermione touched the tip of her wand to his stomach, muttered a spell, and
his bladder emptied suddenly. Harry jerked in surprise, letting out a tiny
squawk of indignation, though she took no notice. He was feeling light
headed again, his eyes suddenly heavy as Dobby removed the tray. Then he
realized that Hermione had put the pain potion in his soup, or had Dobby do
it for her.
Shit, he thought. That was low, even for her, and hed seen her do some
pretty devious things.
Tomorrow, she announced unapologetically at the look of dawning
comprehension on his face. Youre getting out of this bed, Harry, and getting
a shave. Youre going to get a proper bath and have that hair washed, too.
Honestly, its starting to look like Snapes.
Snape, he thought, trying to fight off the potions effects, the mention of his
name jarring a memory loose. He needed to tell them something about
Snape, and Lucius, too. But his mind was working too slowly now, shutting
down.
Snape wasnt who they believed he was. Hed tried to rescue them well,
him, anyway. The fucking git! And Lucius Lucius was dead. Voldemort had
killed him. Harry had seen it, hed felt it.
Whilst this makes the Parsons turbine much longer and heavier, the overall
efficiency of a reaction turbine is slightly higher than the equivalent impulse
turbine for the same thermal energy conversion. In practice, modern turbine
designs use both reaction and impulse concepts to varying degrees
whenever possible. Wind turbines use an airfoil to generate a reaction lift
from the moving fluid and impart it to the rotor. Wind turbines also gain
some energy from the impulse of the wind, by deflecting it at an angle.
Turbines with multiple stages may utilize either reaction or impulse blading
at high pressure. Steam turbines were traditionally more impulse but
continue to move towards reaction designs similar to those used in gas
turbines. At low pressure the operating fluid medium expands in volume for
small reductions in pressure. Under these conditions, blading becomes
strictly a reaction type design with the base of the blade solely impulse. The
reason is due to the effect of the rotation speed for each blade. As the
volume increases, the blade height increases, and the base of the blade
spins at a slower speed relative to the tip. This change in speed forces a
designer to change from impulse at the base, to a high reaction style tip.
Classical turbine design methods were developed in the mid 19th century.
Vector analysis related the fluid flow with turbine shape and rotation.
Graphical calculation methods were used at first. Formulae for the basic
dimensions of turbine parts are well documented and a highly efficient
machine can be reliably designed for any fluid flow condition. Some of the
calculations are empirical or 'rule of thumb' formulae, and others are based
on classical mechanics. As with most engineering calculations, simplifying
assumptions were made. Velocity triangles can be used to calculate the basic
performance of a turbine stage. Gas exits the stationary turbine nozzle guide
vanes at absolute velocity V. The roTurbine inlet guide vanes of a turbojet
tor rotates at velocity U. Relative to the rotor, the velocity of the gas as it
impinges on the rotor entrance is V. The gas is turned by the rotor and
exits, relative to the rotor, at velocity V. However, in absolute terms the
rotor exit velocity is V. The velocity triangles are constructed using these
various velocity vectors. Velocity triangles can be constructed at any section
through the blading (for example: hub, tip, midsection and so on) but are
usually shown at the mean stage radius. Mean performance for the stage can
be calculated from the velocity triangles, at this radius, using the Euler
equation: h = u vw Hence: h T = u vw T where: h T u vw The
turbine pressure ratio is a function of h T and the turbine efficiency. Modern
turbine design carries the calculations further. Computational fluid dynamics
dispenses with many of the simplifying assumptions used to derive classical
formulas and computer software facilitates optimization. These tools have
led to steady improvements in turbine design over the last forty years. The
primary numerical classification of a turbine is its specific speed. This
number describes the speed of the turbine at its maximum efficiency with
respect to the power and flow rate. The specific speed is derived to be 3
independent of turbine size. Given the fluid flow conditions and the desired
shaft output speed, the specific speed can be calculated and an appropriate
turbine design selected. The specific speed, along with some fundamental
formulas can be used to reliably scale an existing design of known
performance to a new size with corresponding performance. Off-design
performance is normally displayed as a turbine map or characteristic. 2
Types Steam turbines are used for the generation of electricity in thermal
power plants, such as plants using coal, fuel oil or nuclear fuel. They were
once used to directly drive mechanical devices such as ships propellers (for
example the Turbinia, the first turbine-powered steam launch, [4]) but most
such applications now use reduction gears or an intermediate electrical step,
where the turbine is used to generate electricity, which then powers an
electric motor connected to the mechanical load. Turbo electric ship
machinery was particularly popular in the period immediately before and
during World War II, primarily due to a lack of sufficient gear-cutting facilities
in US and UK shipyards. Gas turbines are sometimes referred to as turbine
engines. Such engines usually feature an inlet, fan, compressor, combustor
and nozzle (possibly other assemblies) in addition to one or more turbines.
Transonic turbine. The gas flow in most turbines employed in gas turbine
engines remains subsonic throughout the expansion process. In a transonic
turbine the gas flow becomes supersonic as it exits the nozzle guide vanes,
although the downstream velocities normally become subsonic. Transonic
turbines operate at a higher pressure ratio than
I
24, December, 1996
Its true that the Diagon Alley was a popular location for all kinds of witches
and wizards, alongside with many other magical beings, such as elfs, dwarfs
and even veelas, but during the Christmas holidays it was disturnbingly
stressful and almost impossible to cross a street without hearing a witch or
two arguing with a poor seller, crossed arms and barking mad eyes in
restrained fury as if it was the sellers fault that the shop to not say the
entire alley was overcrowded with people who had forgotten to purchase
what they needed and were now having to make their last minute Holiday
shopping.
Apparently, even the recente events hadnt stopped the population of the
wizarding world from doing their normal day activities.
Idiots.
The whole country was alert and yet there was a huge concentration of
people who refused to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had
returned. Were they plain dumb or just in denial, that didnt matter, the
information still seemed that couldnt get through their thick sckulls.
So they carried on.
Carrying lists everywhere, many young men complained with their wives
whilst carrying endless numbers of bags and heavy books; some of them
grunted but aside from that, most remained silent till the end of their trip to
the countless shops that the alley possessed: Gambol & Japes the joke shop
was one of the loudest, closely followed by Quality Quidditch Suppliess and
by the famous pub, the Leaky Cauldron, which the woman was currently in.
Sat by a window, alone in the corner, a dark figure could be seen, carrying a
vicious look on her icy blue eyes. Not that it mattered, anyway, as many if
not all of the occupants of the room hadnt been paying attention to her
since they had walked out of the fireplace.
Red hair, tatty second hand clothes and the blatant expression of plain
bluntness on their faces were enough for one to tell who they were.
Weasleys. The whole lot.
Blimey! How could anyone stand having so many kids around? She thought
before desperatly trying to force her mind to not think about it. No, never in
seven hells shed be in a situation like that. It wasnt as if she hated children
even though her sister claimed the contrary - as for one or two was alright
to her, but seven? Nope, definately not her cup of tea.
As the youngest boy tripped out of the fireplace, soon followed by a ginger
girl, the blonde haired woman sneered soundly. Little baby Potter followed
the girl close behing before she spotted her, the mudblood.
Gripping her bottle with na iron grip, the older woman tried to control herself
before hearing someone sitting beside her. Apparently, she had been so
focused on her on them that she barely had been able to notice who had
dared to come closer to destroy her brief moments of Peace, already aiming
her dagger towards the persons stomach.
Quit pissing around, we must leave at once. Narcissa Malfoy spoke quietly
as she barely wasted her time to look at the ginger familly and the two other
that followed them towards the busy street. Her beautiful face held a stoic
expression. Of disgust, as if she hated to be in such place. Maybe she did.
After minutes without any form of reply, she tried again, this time taking the
dagger out of her sisters skilled hands. Bella.... Are you even listening to
me...? Narcissa hissed low before taking notice of how many bottles her
eldest sister had in front of her, most of them already empty. Unbelievable!
Its already dangerous enough to you go around the wizarding worl and
you---
A low growl escaped the other blonde and for a moment the blue eyes that
had belonged to a local polyjuice prostitute seemed to show exactly who
they were hiding. Cissy...shut up. Bellatrix Lestrange, the infamous death
eater, hissed back, aware that they wouldnt be bothered by nosey people.
As far as Im concerned, I am just a costumer, like anyone else. She said
with fake innocence.
Narcissa raised na eyebrow before carefully placing the dagger on the table,
still showing no visible emotion, but her rant was enough to tell she was
mad. Do you really think that this potion will last that much? Weve been
here for almost na hour, dont be such a reckless nut, if anyone realizes that
the blonde that came through the fireplace gave place to...to you, were as
good as dead. All that what for? Drinks?
Snorting, Bellatrix took a last sip of her drink as she watched Draco walking
inside the pub and quickly glancing around, looking for them. A carbono copy
of Narcissas expression on his face, except that he did not possess the dark
orbs that were so characteristic of the Black family and, instead, had icy blue
eyes, just like Lucius.
Honestly, if I wanted to get shitfaced, Id at least do it with class, at the
manor. Im sure our dear Lucius wouldnt mind me tasting the varieties of
drinks of the house, which I well know you have plenty. She mocked under
her breath before grabbing her dagger and pocketing it before standing up,
making herself visible for her nephew and, without even sparing a look at
Narcissa, she threw a couple or so on the conter, heading to the fireplace.
Keep the change. She hissed low, her voice already going back to its
natural husky sound and the once blue eyes were slowly getting darker and
darker.The barman was shocked, it was far more Money than he had gained
in a whole week!
II
What to many would be a terrible situation, to the Weasley matriarch had
been a party. She was happly bouncing around the shops, her ginger hair
being the only thing that Hermione, Harry and Ron could see as they were
the last ones on the line that the Weasleys had formed as they walked
towards the streets. Carrying a long list, Molly started to delegate the tasks
to each of her children and even her husband.
It made her heart ache but she had to do this in order to leave as quickly as
possible. Besides, an attack, in such crowded place surrounded by Auroro n
holidays and members of the Order didnt seem to be happening. Perhaps, if
they were Lucky enough, theyd have a pleasant Christmas supper, with the
whole family together.
With her feelings under control as her calm started to return, Mrs Weasley
turned to the Golden trio.
Ron, you, Hermione and Harry can go to Eeylops to get what we need for
our owls whilst I and Arthur go to the Apothecary. The twins and Ginny are
checking the Quidditch supplies before they meet with Charlie and Bill in the
bookstore.
What of Percy? asked Ron with a sigh He needs to help too!
Percy will meet us in the bookstore before we leave Arthur gently smiled at
his son Hes got an importante business in the cauldron shop...something
about his last works in the past years...
Humph. Ron crossed his arms over his chest, not quite happy at the
answer he was given.
Cmon, Ron, we need to get the supplies before they close the shop. Harry
spoke before his friend started to rant about his brother, again.
Harrys right, I also need to get more rats for Crookshanks. Hermione
commented before picking the list Mrs Weasley was giving her and the
money. Heading to do their tasks, they took almost na hour to finally be able
to go to the bookstore. Hermiones feet were already aching and Harry could
tell he was about to get a huge headache as Ron couldnt stop complaining
about his brother. Or was it about Quidditch? The green eyed boy barely
could understand his friend properly before he started to speak again.
Against his will, Ron carried the bags something Hermione made sure of
him to do as her own ears were starting to ache already and she briefly
wondered if she could cast a Muffiato...Well, of course not, young wizards
couldnt perform magic outside the schools limits, but the simple thought
already entretained her enough. and that seemed to make him speak less
as he was struggling to keep his balance and follow his friends.
As they passed by Ollivanders Shop, Harrys scar burnt a little, as if there
was still something about it that the current Aurors that were now guarding
what was left of the building and that made him shiver slightly at the
thought. Hermione, who seemed to have noticed, placed a gentle hand on
his shoulder as they headed to the Second-Hand Bookshop.
Hermione was well aware of what was happening perhaps even more than
the rest of the group as she had seen what had happened, and what was
still happening, in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. The two sides of a
coin, so different, yet here she was, one of the living proofs that they could
be United, if they wanted. Even thought she was a muggleborn and had no
drop of magical blood in her family, she was born different, special as one
would say.
To say that her life was easy would be a white lie and, if she was honest, the
last six years had been the most difficult thing she had passed through.
Predjuice, exclusion, hate and countless near death experiences made her
tougher through the years and as much as she denied she knew she
wasnt the same. At least not since Sirius death anyway.
She had seen it, the madness of the womans eyes his own cousin! as she
shouted the evil curse that hit him straight in the chest before he fell on the
Veil and dissapeared. Ever since then, mosto of the nights, shes wake up
around past midnight, panting as the dark, souless orbes glared madly
before her, haunting her as if they planned on making her the next target.
This whole thing, Christmas, holidays and even the oncoming marriage of Bill
and Fleur, seemed pointless now. Everything looked so distant that Hermione
briefly wondered if she was facing the begin of some sort of depression or
perhaps a post traumatic symptom.
It was almost as if she was someone else, or in the processo of becoming
someone she had no clue on who it was and that was driving her mad.
Sighing, the young witch opened the door of the bookstore with ease. It was
getting darker, which meant that most people would hurry home, afraid of
what the darkness of the night could bring. Cowards, Ron had said.
But....if Hermione was honest with herself, she too wanted to runaway.
The reason why of all this fuss was because they were having more people
than the usual for the Christmas supper. Remus and Tonks agreed on going
to The Burrow and, even though Hermione herself wouldnt be spending the
holidays with them shed pay them a visit by the floo. She was glad that
her parents had let her install a connection to the floo network, or else she
wouldnt be able to get there in time after all, she still didnt know how to
apparate yet and was thankful that theyd let her spend the resto of the
night with her friends. Rumours said that even Fleur would be
present.Hermione suspected that theyd tell the whole family, and friends,
about the oncoming happening.
III
Ever since the Vow was made, Bellatrix had been restless to say the least.
She no longer spent time with Draco or Narcissa. Heck, she didnt even argue
with Lucius anymore and as incredible as that might sound he was almost
starting to miss their casual rows.
Rodolphus was still in the Lestrange Manor, alongside with his brother and,
as far as she was concerned, they could die for all she cared. She never had
hated someone so much in her life more than her useless excuse of husband.
Well.... except someone...
The mudblood.
Of the many things that pissed Bellatrix off, to see a according to her
worthless mudblood that had stole a wand to keep her head high and proud
was far too much to handle.
How dare she?!? she mumbled huskly, now back with her appearance
intact. Shes not even a witch. And then, Bellatrix carried on with the
verbal abuse, even thought the only ones hearing her were the portraits of
her parentes, who proudly looked at her in approval.
Thats it. Thats the good old Bella. Shes still here, no changes at all...
To say that she had a problem with alchool would be one thing. But, to
consider Bellatrix to actually be an alchoolic was going too far. She usually
never drank, well,except a glass or two of wine every now and then, but
when she noticed that she couldnt sleep anymore, the only way she had to
refrain from getting addicted to a Sleeping Draught would be drinking herself
to slumber and then sleeping soundly on whereven she was at the moment.
Most of the time, it was on the love seat, on the library, where she has for
hours and hours been looking for answers that she couldnt find. Answers
that not even her Lord could give her.
Severus no, Snape. Hed still be Snape. Snivellus. had tried to help her
with her nightmares, offering to give her potions on Dreamless Sleep, but
they stopped having effect on her, no matter how much she took. Still, he
offered to help on her research on the meaning of her constant nightmares.
At first, she thought he was up to something not that she had changed her
mind, though and had her wand aimed at his throat countless time. He
claimed to be helping her for old times sake, as he put it. Wrong move. All
that happened in the past must stay in the past, hidden forever from both
hers and her Lords mind.
IV
It was almost always the same. The woman, slight blonde and long haired,
would say nothing but to point at a river. When she bent to look though, she
didnt see her own reflection but of someone very much alike her, yet so
different.
She knew that face somehow.
Then, the woman would speak, but she barely could hear as the ivory sking
on the blonde lady started to crack as a teapot that fell on the floor and then
shed start screaming at the top of her lungs, so desesperate and in so much
pain that made her stomatch twirl as a storm started to form.
The blonde had warned her, somehow, she knew things were going to
reapeat themselves again.
A baby cried in the middle of the noise and it looked so afraid that the blonde
woman had no choice but to throw it on a river, causing the other to scream.
A battle began, not light against dark and no one but the two woman, yet
their blood lust for each other seemed to supress the anger and the cruelity
of thousands armies.
V
Her house was slightly small when compared to a normal house, but she
didnt feel any less comfortable there. In fact, a house of such size was more
than enough for the three of them to live.Panting, Hermione looked at her
clock. 01:00 am. Great. Another night restless. This time, she could have
sworn that she felt something....as if...this was some sort of memory. Not
desiring to dwell on such thoughts for much longer, she turned to try and
Back at the Malfoy Manor, things were way much worse.After the contents of
her stomach were cleaned by a small flick of her wand, Bellatrix returned to
her bed, breathing heavly as the dream was still vivid on her mind and it
played on a repeat in a non-stop motion that deeply disturbed her. She was
sure that Cissy had heard her from her room and that even Draco might have
been already getting his wand to check on his aunt, but the protective spells
that she had put on her room were almost strong enough to stop elfic
magic,which was far more raw magic of wizarding magic to begin with. Thing
was, one could only penetrate in her room if she allowed.
Something that wasnt happening anytime soon.
Even though she felt tired, haunted by thoughts that seemed to not belong
her and sleep was not claiming her anytime soon. So, instead of wasting the
little energy she still had, she accioed a book to entretain herself.
Narcissa paced on the library, sighing quietly. Such unlady like action was
revolting to her but she couldnt stop herself. Bella was getting worse and
she wondered if her sister could handle what it was going to happen if she
lost it. The many layers of protective walls that both she and Snape had puto
on Bellatrixs mind were cracking and threatening to fall. This could not
happen under no circunstance, it would change everything, even the course
of the war.
Going to Diagon Alley had been a mistake that Narcissa could forgive herself.
Bellas mind was still weak after Azkaban and, even though this year she had
been almost normal, she knew something was starting to happen to her
sister.Perhaps the stains of time were harder to wash off than she had
thought.
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