[Fic] Letter's From The Inside 04
Title: Letters From The Inside
Writer: Teh Opheliac (A.K.A. Lillith Maxwell)
Beta: Obssessed4Life
Warnings: Slash / Yaoi, Snarry (Snape x Harry); man-kissing!, AU- Sirius is alive, Snape is still the potions master (6th year). LEMON-ISH SCENE DISGUISED AS A LIME!
Summary: One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. With a bit of coaxing, it introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Harry’s life will never be the same again.
Letters From The Inside
Chapter Four: Betrothal Pads
Harry awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. He shifted in his bed and stretched with a small groan before he sat up with a smile. It didn’t take long before he was distinctly aware of how tight his boxers seemed to have grown overnight. He blushed as he recalled the dream from night before with a low moan of approval.
The bulge twitched and seemed to become even more excited at the prospect. Harry bit his lip and glanced around with speculating eyes. Everyone was still asleep and there were fifteen minutes before they usually started to awaken; that left him with ten minutes to play.
Pleased, he drew his curtains closed and threw up a privacy charm before he reached down into his boxers and grasped his hardened member. As he began to caress it he thought of how good it felt to be in the other man’s arms. He recalled the pressure of the man’s mouth against his, the sweetened taste of his lips and tongue that left him craving more, and the unique, enticing scent of herbs that had flooded his senses and invaded his mind. It was his eyes, however, that really did it for him. He felt as though he would fall into them and lose himself.
His hips bucked and Harry gasped as he released into his hand. He lay there panting for a few minutes afterwards, reveling in the aftermath of his climax. It didn’t take long before he started to feel cold and sticky, though, so he grabbed his wand with his free hand and muttered a cleaning charm to rid himself of the mess.
As he sat up and looked around, his mind began to function properly once again and reminded him of his excitement from the night before. The Journal! His hand eagerly plunged under his pillow and he pulled out the desired object. A grin settled itself atop his lips as he flipped through the pages and sought out a new entry. Ah-ha! There it was! They had written again!
Indeed. It would seem this book is not as private as I had originally thought it to be. Who are you?
-S
Harry frowned and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What? Of course it wasn’t private! This person, S, was writing in his journal! How could they possibly consider it private when they snuck over to his bed at night and took his journal to write in it?!
Harry leaned over and dug out a quill from his bedside stand. He dipped it in some ink and hesitated for a moment. He’d play along with S for the time being. Perhaps then he’d be able to discreetly figure out what was going on?
I’m H. I own this book, this journal. Why do you write in it (not that I mind)? At first, I thought you were responding to me. I suppose I was wrong.
-H
“Harry! Time to get-- oh!” Ron’s head suddenly appeared inside the curtains surrounding his bed and he jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were already awake.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and peered down at the book in Harry’s hands. “What are you up to anyway?”
Harry shut the book and shook his head, “Nothing Ron.” He put it down on the bed and started collecting his clothes and materials for class, desperate to get away from the other boy before he started pestering him about it. “I’m going to go take a shower, okay Ron? I’ll see you in the great hall!”
Ron watched him go with a worried look before he shrugged and hurried out the room to go meet up with Hermione. He’d tell her about it and see what she thought about Harry’s strange behavior.
--
Snape glowered at Dumbledore. The old fool smiled back at him while his eyes twinkled merrily. "An intriguing story, Severus, but by no means will I discourage you from corresponding with H!"
"What?!" he snarled, his anger dissolving into rage as he waved the book in his face. "It's a Betrothal Pad, Dumbledore! Someone left it outside of my door for me to find. It's a set-up, a prank! Why in Merlin's name would you want me to play along with it?! Why can't you simply find the blasted child responsible and punish them?"
Dumbledore didn't seem to notice the way the Potions Master threw daggers at him with his eyes. "Calm down, Severus. Why not try a lemon drop? It will make you feel better."
Snape blanched and shook his head, rejecting the muggle sweet. "Dumbledore--"
"Think about it, Severus. If you 'play along' with this, you'll eventually be led to find out the identity of the student. If it truly is a prank, they'll eventually want you to go somewhere to reveal yourself, right? Why not be ready for them?"
Snape frowned. He'd been too enraged by the prospect of someone trying to humiliate him to even consider this possibility. It was true. For the prank to work, they’d eventually have to reveal themselves. Mollified, he nodded to the Headmaster once and stood up, “Yes, Sir. I’ll take my leave now,” he told him stiffly.
“Severus,” Snape glanced over at him, his face devoid of emotion, “Try to enjoy it. You may be surprised.” He scowled and scoffed at Dumbledore before he turned and left the room.
--
The day passed slowly for Harry. Once he’d gotten to the Great Hall, he’d been met with a curious and somewhat suspicious Hermione. He figured that Ron must have told her about this morning and made a note to himself to be more careful when he was writing in his journal. He had been lucky it had only been Ron that had caught him. If he was too careless someone like Malfoy might get their hands on it!
He spent the rest of the day feeling grumpy and avoiding both Ron and Hermione (while pretending he wasn’t) the best that he could. They were too inclined to talk to him and he just wanted some time to himself to think. It was hard seeing as they were in almost all of his classes. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one in a bad mood, either. Snape had been all over him today. It was almost like the man had been hovering behind him and nitpicking at every little thing he did so he could find a mistake to yell at him for and take away house points.
By the time his break rolled around, the urge to flee was too much and he took off to the library for some peace and quiet. He picked out the most secluded place in the library and sat down on the floor in the corner of it before taking out his journal and opening it.
He was shocked to find yet another entry written there already. He frowned in confusion and ignored the bad feeling that was beginning to worm its way deep into his stomach. When could they have found the time to respond? He had kept the journal with him all day. The only time he hadn’t been holding on to it was when he had been busy taking a shower. Could they have followed him in there and responded while he had been busy cleaning himself off? It didn’t sound likely but it was the only thing that made sense.
Harry squinted at the page. All along the side and at the top was the man's handwriting. It was tiny and bunched together, though, making it hard to read. Some of it was even scratched out. It reminded Harry of when he was still in his muggle school. He had used the edges of his math homework to solve a bunch of equations. The only difference was that it seemed to be in another language and that it was obviously not math. The only words he could actually make out from all of the nonsense were: “You own the book? Impossible.” and "Betrothal Pads."
Beneath the large mess was the actual entry:
I wrote in it because it was there and I had something to say.
Harry felt more confused than ever. Despite that, he did feel more confident that it was someone in his dorm room again. S was no longer acting as though he were the victim that had had his privacy intruded upon. He shrugged to himself and sat there for a while, wondering how it would be appropriate to respond to such an awkward message.
Well, you seem like an interesting person. Would you mind very much if I wished to know more about you?
He shut the journal and held it to his chest. Who was S? What did S stand for? His first name? Middle name? Last name? Was it even related to his name or was it just some random letter that he had decided to use? What was S like? Why was he being so secretive about answering his journal? How could he figure out who he was?
More importantly, how could he reveal who S was that didn’t include asking him? He already knew the other man wouldn’t tell him- if he would have, he wouldn’t have gone through such lengths to hide his identity from him in the first place. Well… the boy responded to him mostly at night. So, if he stayed up all night and pretended to be asleep, he’d eventually have to show himself, right?
--
The next morning found Harry stiff, aching and so tired that he found himself shaking his head every few minutes as if he were attempting to clear the cobwebs from it. The only way that seemed to ‘help’ him was by making him dizzy and slightly nauseous. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark purple lines under them stood out starkly again his too pale skin. All in all, he looked like shit.
The worst part of it all was that no one had come! Now he was going to feel sick and horrible all day for nothing. He slumped forward in his bed and pouted. He had been so certain that by the next morning he would know the identity of his secret friend that he had never considered the possibility that they might decide to wait before responding again.
Dammit! What a letdown! He rolled his eyes and forced himself to roll out of bed despite the fact that every muscle in his body was screaming at him to be lazy and finally give into the need to sleep. He ignored it. Barely.
It was still early but the other boys would be waking soon. He brought a hand up to his neck and rubbed the sore muscles there, wincing . It was going to be a long day. Quickly, he changed his clothes and gathered his belongings, making sure to include the journal. He gave up quickly on trying to tame his wild hair and pocketed his wand before he left his dorm room.
He settled down in the common room which was thankfully empty and sighed. He shouldn’t be this disappointed. He really shouldn’t! What had he been expecting, anyway? Harry shrugged to himself in response and was unable to stop a wide yawn from temporarily taking control of his mouth. Merlin, he was really tired! What had happened?
When he had been 12 he had easily been able to stay awake for days on end! And now, suddenly, he found himself actually needing more sleep then eight hours a night! It was almost like something was draining his energy or his magic.
He bit the inside of his cheek and decided that he would go to Madam Pomfrey to ask for a Pepper-Up potion (1). Normally he wouldn’t have bothered because he hated the idea of steam wafting out of his ears for the next few hours but he was certain he wouldn’t last the whole day without it.
Harry gathered up his things and held them tightly to his chest as he stood up and started his long trek from the seventh floor (Gryffindor Tower) to the third floor’s Hospital Wing. As he walked through the halls of Hogwarts he found the silence to be almost deafening. He was used to the loud chatter of the students or even the quiet sounds of the ghosts as they drifted by. It was unnerving and, at the same time, relieving.
He didn’t have to hold up his usual “savior” façade for his peers, the “successful student” for his teachers or the “saint potter” for his rival Slytherins. He could simply be himself. Just Harry. This was, of course, what he had wanted all along. It was rather hard to be yourself, though, when the entire wizarding world seem to be watching and analyzing your every move.
A small but tired smile pulled at his lips despite his aching body and fuzzy head as he surveyed the floor he was walking on, lost in his thoughts. It was in this moment of carelessness that he abruptly ran into a firm chest. He blinked a few times and he stumbled back with wide eyes, apologizing immediately, “I’m sorry--” he broke off when he found himself face to face with one Severus Snape.
“Harry Potter…” he started, glowering down at him past his hooked nose. Harry felt a shiver creep down his back at the way the Professor said his name. “Not only do you refuse to pay attention in class but in general everyday life as well? My, my. You’re even more like your filthy father then I had originally thought. The resemblance between the two of you is simply uncanny.”
Harry said nothing for a long moment as Snape watched him with something akin to amusement. He stood rigidly before him with his face flushed pink in anger and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He glanced up at Snape and felt his stomach twist at the look on his face. It was rare that he would be privileged enough to see such a pleasant expression (even if it was at his own expense).
Sadly, it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. Soon it had transformed into a somewhat confused sneer that succeeded in pulling Harry out of his semi-dazed state. “I--STOP COMPARING ME TO MY FATHER!” he snarled without his usual scorn, falling back into his old habits. Snape relaxed (well, as much as he can), feeling more comfortable in the familiar territory.
The snarky man narrowed his eyes at Harry in warning and with an icy expression he leaned forward until he was mere inches from his face (to which Harry felt his heart begin to race) and hissed, “You would do well to hold your tongue. Ten points from Gryffindor.”
He watched Snape skulk away, his robes billowing behind him, with a dumbfounded expression. “I… what?” he murmured to himself, wondering what was wrong with him. Why had he reacted like that? Harry shook his head and began to gnaw on his lower lip as he continued his journey to the Hospital Wing.
By the time he arrived, Madam Pomfrey was not only up and about but tidying up the beds nearby in preparation to an unforeseen accident. She glanced up when she heard him walk in and frowned. “Oh, Mr. Potter. Have you been injured doing something dangerous again?” she wondered curiously, raking her eyes over his form (at a distance) as she checked for wounds.
Harry shook his head and smiled sheepishly. “No, Madam Pomfrey. Actually, ah, I wanted to know if I could have a Pepper-Up potion?”
Her frown grew deeper and she bustled forward to inspect him. “Hmm, overly pale adorned with a deep flush… clammy skin… rather warm temperature… bloodshot eyes. Yes, you may be coming down with a cold. How are you feeling?” she asked him as she ran her wand over him and checked his vitals.
Harry, feeling awkward, shuffled back and forth as she examined him. He had come to ask for the potion because of the unique side effect it had. It was similar to that of a muggle energy drink, really- though it was a lot stronger. Not that he was going to tell her that, of course! “My head hurts and my throat is aching,” he lied.
She nodded at him with furrowed eyebrows and guided him over to the closest bed. “Well, you sit here, dear, and I’ll go fetch you the potion.” Harry did as she requested and set his books down next to him. Hopefully this was a sign that his day wouldn’t be quite as bad he had originally thought.
--
The day seemed to drift by like a blur. He had been pleased to receive an owl from Sirius during breakfast but his happy mood soon faded as he was pestered by both Hermione and Ron to explain the details of his Godfather’s whereabouts.
It almost seemed to be a never ending cycle recently. The more he avoided Ron and Hermione, the more they bugged him. The more they bugged him, the more he avoided them. He knew it was his fault for being so distant and secretive recently. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell them what was really going on; at least, not yet.
Harry settled himself down in the library and opened his journal to see if S had responded to him yet. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes bulged almost impossibly wide. S had -- was -- responding. The words were fading onto the page atop the lines and it distinctly reminded him of the incident with Tom Riddle in his second year. He slammed the book shut as his mind raced and his heart pounded in his chest.
A few minutes ticked by before he tentatively opened the book again and turned to the last page that was written on. He peered down at it, noticing that it was finished since the words were no longer appearing on the page.
Interesting? I suppose. Why don’t you explain yourself first?
He swallowed thickly and shut the book again, immediately deciding not use it until he had managed to figure out exactly what it was and whether or not it was dangerous.
A few days went by as Harry ravaged the library, looking through everything he could get his hands on (even the restricted section!); Ron and Hermione were less then pleased with his frequent disappearances and were beginning to become a bit testy. Every time they saw him they would begin to demand what he was up to, where he had been and why he was avoiding them.
Harry didn’t particularly want to avoid them and keep them out of the loop. He just didn’t want them nagging him about the journal all the time. Hermione would because she would think it was a threat and Ron would back her up to get on her good side.
He sighed and grabbed the object that was the cause of all of this fuss. It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary- but it most certainly was! The boy opened it and began to reread the entries that had been written. He was startled to find that underneath the last entry from the other person sat a new, now annoyed one.
Harry told himself that he shouldn’t have been so surprised to discover that his anonymous “friend” had cared enough to inquire about his abrupt disappearance. His unease deepened as he read the entry the other person had left:
I’m curious. I wonder where you have gotten to. Did you drop off the face of the earth or have you simply fallen over and died?
‘Well… that was rather blunt, wasn’t it?’ he mused to himself. Despite the awkward way the question was worded, Harry thought he could feel at least a little sincere worry in it. This only helped to make him worry even more. How could he be truly sure that this person wasn’t out to get him?
But what if they were good? If he blew them off now and it turned out there was nothing to be concerned about, he would regret it later. Sighing deeply, he leaned down and warily wrote out a response before plunging headfirst back into his research.
Sorry. I’ve been feeling sick recently. I was told to take it easy and rest before I make my condition worse. I’ll write again when I’m feeling better.
A few hours came and went and Harry hadn’t progressed in the least. He growled and dragged his hand through his hair roughly in irritated frustration. He hadn’t found a single thing relating to what he was looking for and it seemed like he was going to have to drag in a professional. He swallowed thickly and winced. He was going to have to tell Hermione- and she wasn’t going to like it.
--
“-- and that’s what happened,” Harry confided to Hermione.
Hermione frowned and he could tell she was less then pleased with him. “Harry, this sounds a lot like--”
“Some evil scheme that Voldemort is cooking up? I know,” he confessed. “That’s why I’ve stopped talking to him. I want to be sure that it’s safe too. That’s why I’ve been trying to figure out what this is; if there’s anything written about it in any of the books in the library.”
She clicked her tongue once and looked away, her mouth set in a firm, unhappy line. “So, have you come up with anything?”
“Well I--Er, I mean…” He paused, not wanting to tell her no. He knew that had it been her, that she would have at least found something in all the time he had wasted without confiding in anyone. He didn’t want to appear stupid or to have been wasting his time. He closed his eyes and thought about everything he’d read already. Oddly, his mind was drawn back to the one entry written by S. What were those words? “Betrothal Pad.”
Hermione stiffened and her eyes widened a little, “What?”
“Oh, I…well. I guess I was just wondering if--”
She cut him off abruptly, “You think it’s a betrothal pad?” Her eyes swept over the journal with appraisal. “Hmm… well, I doubt it but it’s not impossible,” She muttered more to herself then to anyone else.
Harry started. “You mean it really exists!?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. She gave him a look and he turned pink. “I mean, uh. Well, I wasn’t aware that it was. What is it? Is there any information about it in any of the books here?”
Hermione nodded at him. “Yes, there is one book I know of. I finished reading it about two months ago. Here, follow me.” She beckoned him to follow her as she gathered her stuff.
Harry watched Hermione as she led the way into the deepest section of the library. She was tense and her expression was pinched tight. He followed her for a good five minutes before she finally came to a stop. “Ah, here we are.” They were in a small alcove that he had never seen or even noticed before. All of the books there were old and rather thick. He watched with fascination as her face twisted into a relaxed expression (she always did seem to be more comfortable with books than anyone else) as she ran her finger over the tops of them, “Mm, it’s around here somewhere…ah-ha!” she murmured with satisfaction as she pulled out a tall book.
She lovingly ran her hand along the spine of it and caressed it before she seated herself on the floor. Hermione placed the book on the ground and opened it with care before she started running her finger along the index. When she came up with nothing, she frowned. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought for a few minutes as she contemplated. Moments later, her expression brightened and she ran her finger along the index once again. It didn’t take long before her finger had stopped and, as Harry noticed when he peered down beside her, landed on the words “Spondeo Libri.”
He frowned and gave her a confused expression. “The whole book is in Latin,” she explained when she noticed the look. He nodded at her and watched as she flipped through the book until she landed on the designated page. She held the book up and her eyes scanned the paper, “Ah, here it is… because it’s in Latin, I’m going to have to read it to you.” She didn’t bother to stop and wait for his response. She simply began to read out loud.
--
“In the mid 1700s, a witch by the name of Gondoline Oliphant (2) (more commonly known for her studies of life and the habits of trolls) created the Betrothal Pad. Originally, it was a wad of parchment with a strange assortment of charms and spells cast upon it (all recollection of which ones have been lost) that allowed a fellow witch or wizard to communicate only with the person whom had the matching partner to it.
As the difficulty of keeping it safe increased, she bound the parchment in a black leather book and cast a new slew of spells upon it to ensure maximum animosity and safety. It was nearly 10 years later before she had finally completed the first set of Betrothal Pads.
As the name suggests, they were created for the sole purpose of choosing a suitable witch or wizard for betrothal purposes (more often than not by purebloods). Two years before their child comes of age, their parents begin to contact other families and together they decide to give them the Betrothal Pads. The children then begin to get to know each other without the slightest idea of whom they’re talking to. This allows the child to get to know the other person without worry of outside prejudices influencing their decisions. In a few months time, the parents question them and discover whether or not the children are able to tolerate one other. If so, they have a match, a single meeting, and the wedding plans begin. If not, they try again.
Every night in which the both holders of the book have written in the Betrothal Pad, they are subjected to visit with one another in their sleep. While they are able to see each other in their dreams, they are unable to recognize one another. When they awaken, they are able to clearly recall the other holder's face but they are unable to place where they may have seen that person from.
Each book has an enormous amount of charms and spells placed upon it to make it impossible for the holders to discover whom the other is without an outside source telling them. An artificial intelligence is placed inside the book. It reviews all entries and deletes anything it believes may be a clue as to whom the other holder is.
The Betrothal Pad draws the magical energy necessary to keep the charms and spells intact from the holders as they use it. When they sleep at night (amidst the dream), their powers are replenished so the effects of the drain do not interfere with the Holder’s everyday life.
Oliphant was clubbed to death while sketching in the Cotswold and all the secrets of the Betrothal Pads died along with her. As there are only 25 sets of Betrothal Pads in existence (and most were lost during the early 1800s), it was essential that the original ones had a proof of authenticity. It didn't take long before fake sets began to be reproduced. Oliphant placed a thin, red thread of binding on the inside of them. All one needs to do is to tap their wand along said binding three times and demand, "Show thy maker." Within moments, Oliphant will reveal herself.”
As she finished, Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with the given information. It was still too suspicious, too convenient that Harry should just happen to find one of the few Betrothal Pads still in existence. Not only had he possibly managed to find it, but, the matching partner to it was active and in the hands of someone else! What were the chances? Minimal to none. Something just wasn’t right.
She sighed, pushing down the feeling of foreboding that was threatening to overwhelm the pit of her stomach. “Harry, let me see it. I want to check and see if it’s real.” He pulled it out and held it in his hands for a long moment as though he were reluctant to even let her touch it before he finally handed it over to her.
She almost smiled in relief. As she took it in her hands she felt the power it held within it humming thickly in the air. She swallowed deeply and opened it to the last page. Hermione watched Harry out of the corner of her eye as she lifted her wand and tapped the binding three times before whispering softly, “Show thy maker.”
A moment passed and nothing happened… and then the humming of the book increased by tenfold. The power throbbing around it was so substantial that she could taste it. There was a flash of crimson light from the binding that momentarily blinded her. She gasped and held her hand up to her eyes to shade them from the light. It faded slowly and left a small woman in its place along the middle of the binding. She was about a foot in height with blonde hair that was pulled back into a braid that fell down the middle of her back. Atop her head sat a crumpled, pointy, green hat. Her body was clothed with an elegant, light brown dress and a green cloak.
She looked around for a moment before her chocolate brown eyes lay upon Harry. “You are the holder of this Betrothal Pad?”
Harry blinked stupidly for a moment before he nodded at her, “Uh, yes! I am. I’m Harry Potter.”
She nodded at him and smiled softly, “Take my hand.” She held her tiny hand out in his direction. Hesitantly, he reached out to her with his pointer finger and pressed it gently into her palm. A zap of red electricity seemed to shoot through him. His body became rigid; as though it were stretched farther than it was meant to go, past its straining point. It lasted for mere seconds but to Harry it seemed like forever. Then it was over. His body went slack and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Hermione cried out and jumped forward, catching his shoulders and his head before they could hit the ground. With wide eyes, she lowered his head into her lap and began to stroke his hair out of his face. “Harry? Harry…?”
He was still for a moment and even his breathing seemed to have slowed down. Then, his eyes opened just a crack and he groaned, “It’s real.”
Hermione hissed quietly in annoyance, “I don’t care! Are you okay?! What happened?”
“Mm? Oh, when I touched her, she showed me the book’s past. Flashes of images shot into my head. She showed me a few bits and pieces of how the book was put together, all of the people who had used it before.” He smiled at her and ran his hand through his hair as he sat up again. “It’s okay. It’s safe, Hermione. It’s not some plot of Voldemort’s to come back.”
“Harry, you don’t know that!” she protested weakly. “You have no idea who the other person you’re talking to is. It could be You-Know-Who!”
Harry laughed, “Why would Voldemort go through all this trouble just to talk to me? It’s not like he’s shy. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d do it!”
Hermione’s unease grew even deeper as she witnessed how attached to the book he seemed to be, “But Harry… I think you should tell Dumbledore about this. You should let him examine the Betrothal Pad and determine if it’s safe or not! That way we could be certain--”
Harry glared at her, “No, Hermione! Why do you always have to over-examine everything?! Why can’t you just let things be? Why can’t you trust me?”
“Excuse me? Harry, I didn’t have to help you with this. I didn’t even want to! I did it because you were my friend and you needed my help. Why can’t you just give me the benefit of the doubt?” she demanded from him angrily.
“Why won’t you give me it?!” Harry didn’t give her a chance to respond; he just turned and stormed out of the library with the notebook under his arm.
Hermione glared after him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Why couldn’t he see she was just trying to help him? Was it really that hard for him to understand that she just didn’t want him to get hurt?! She took her time putting the book away and gathering her things, regaining control over her emotions and thoughts as she did so. By the time she left the library, she looked as though she had never been crying to begin with.
--
Harry knocked on the door that led to Dumbledore's office in confusion. For what reason could the Headmaster have to talk with him today? He'd seen the man not even a week ago and had been told that nothing of importance seemed to be going on at the moment. Perhaps something had happened? I hope no one has been hurt, thought Harry. He hoped if something had happened it was minor. If it was minor, though, he doubted Dumbledore would have bothered to tell him.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's grave voice urged him. He felt his stomach flip and contract painfully at the tone of his voice. He reached up and pushed the door open. Inside, the Headmaster sat at his desk with a serious expression. Hermione sat in one of the chairs before his--wait, Hermione?! His head snapped over in her direction and she winced, immediately dropping her eyes to the ground with a guilty expression.
Harry felt anger and betrayal surge through his body like an electric shock. Oh no. Tell me she hadn’t! "Harry, I'd like you to let me see that journal of yours." She had!
To Be Continued...
1) Pepper-Up Potion Yes, I know this potion is used to cure the common cold. I made one of the side effects of using it to be similar to that of drinking an energy drink. It helps to make you more alert and awake. So sue me (not really)! D:
2) The Character, Gondoline Oliphant, does not belong to me. She, too, belongs to JK Rowling. xD I used some information I found on her site to better weave this character into my story.
_______________________________________________________________________
Writer's Note: First off, I want to apologize for being late to update this story by a few days! TT.TT That wasn't my intention. To make up for it, I made the chapter longer then I was originally planning to. It's my longest chapter yet! YAY! Now, if you're wondering WHY I was late in updating... the main reason is because of a writer's block. It was horrible. I knew EXACTLY what I wanted to write but I was unable to write it. I was so frustrated that I even ended up crying. o.o;; Also, I had to send it to my beta for corrections. It took her three or four days of my nagging her (I'M SORRY!) before she gave me the beta'd version. I feel bad about it now. D:
My beta, Obsessed4Life, had to help me with several areas because it was so bad. x.x;; I almost felt like quitting. I didn't, though, because I want to finish this story. If I do, it will be the first ever story that I've finished! Yeah, I know, bad track record. D:
Aargh, it would seem that my muse for this story is attempting to escape- and it's succeeding. In fact, it seems to have eloped with my motivation to write even! Isn't that horrible?! The battle tactic it is using is called "Writer's Block." How annoying. =/ QUICK! SOMEONE! CATCH IT! STOP IT! DON'T LET IT ESCAPE!
Also, I would like to credit my beta for giving me the following three alternative sentences to use: "An intriguing story, Severus, but by no means will I discourage you from corresponding with H! ; She took her time putting the book away and gathering her things, regaining control over her emotions and thoughts as she did so. ; I hope no one has been hurt, thought Harry. He hoped if something had happened it was minor."
Writer: Teh Opheliac (A.K.A. Lillith Maxwell)
Beta: Obssessed4Life
Warnings: Slash / Yaoi, Snarry (Snape x Harry); man-kissing!, AU- Sirius is alive, Snape is still the potions master (6th year). LEMON-ISH SCENE DISGUISED AS A LIME!
Summary: One day, Harry is greeted by a strange owl that seems oddly familiar. With a bit of coaxing, it introduces Harry to something weird, something amazing, something that allows him to interact with an anonymous person whom he fall head over heels for. Harry’s life will never be the same again.
Letters From The Inside
Chapter Four: Betrothal Pads
Harry awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. He shifted in his bed and stretched with a small groan before he sat up with a smile. It didn’t take long before he was distinctly aware of how tight his boxers seemed to have grown overnight. He blushed as he recalled the dream from night before with a low moan of approval.
The bulge twitched and seemed to become even more excited at the prospect. Harry bit his lip and glanced around with speculating eyes. Everyone was still asleep and there were fifteen minutes before they usually started to awaken; that left him with ten minutes to play.
Pleased, he drew his curtains closed and threw up a privacy charm before he reached down into his boxers and grasped his hardened member. As he began to caress it he thought of how good it felt to be in the other man’s arms. He recalled the pressure of the man’s mouth against his, the sweetened taste of his lips and tongue that left him craving more, and the unique, enticing scent of herbs that had flooded his senses and invaded his mind. It was his eyes, however, that really did it for him. He felt as though he would fall into them and lose himself.
His hips bucked and Harry gasped as he released into his hand. He lay there panting for a few minutes afterwards, reveling in the aftermath of his climax. It didn’t take long before he started to feel cold and sticky, though, so he grabbed his wand with his free hand and muttered a cleaning charm to rid himself of the mess.
As he sat up and looked around, his mind began to function properly once again and reminded him of his excitement from the night before. The Journal! His hand eagerly plunged under his pillow and he pulled out the desired object. A grin settled itself atop his lips as he flipped through the pages and sought out a new entry. Ah-ha! There it was! They had written again!
Indeed. It would seem this book is not as private as I had originally thought it to be. Who are you?
-S
Harry frowned and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What? Of course it wasn’t private! This person, S, was writing in his journal! How could they possibly consider it private when they snuck over to his bed at night and took his journal to write in it?!
Harry leaned over and dug out a quill from his bedside stand. He dipped it in some ink and hesitated for a moment. He’d play along with S for the time being. Perhaps then he’d be able to discreetly figure out what was going on?
I’m H. I own this book, this journal. Why do you write in it (not that I mind)? At first, I thought you were responding to me. I suppose I was wrong.
-H
“Harry! Time to get-- oh!” Ron’s head suddenly appeared inside the curtains surrounding his bed and he jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were already awake.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and peered down at the book in Harry’s hands. “What are you up to anyway?”
Harry shut the book and shook his head, “Nothing Ron.” He put it down on the bed and started collecting his clothes and materials for class, desperate to get away from the other boy before he started pestering him about it. “I’m going to go take a shower, okay Ron? I’ll see you in the great hall!”
Ron watched him go with a worried look before he shrugged and hurried out the room to go meet up with Hermione. He’d tell her about it and see what she thought about Harry’s strange behavior.
--
Snape glowered at Dumbledore. The old fool smiled back at him while his eyes twinkled merrily. "An intriguing story, Severus, but by no means will I discourage you from corresponding with H!"
"What?!" he snarled, his anger dissolving into rage as he waved the book in his face. "It's a Betrothal Pad, Dumbledore! Someone left it outside of my door for me to find. It's a set-up, a prank! Why in Merlin's name would you want me to play along with it?! Why can't you simply find the blasted child responsible and punish them?"
Dumbledore didn't seem to notice the way the Potions Master threw daggers at him with his eyes. "Calm down, Severus. Why not try a lemon drop? It will make you feel better."
Snape blanched and shook his head, rejecting the muggle sweet. "Dumbledore--"
"Think about it, Severus. If you 'play along' with this, you'll eventually be led to find out the identity of the student. If it truly is a prank, they'll eventually want you to go somewhere to reveal yourself, right? Why not be ready for them?"
Snape frowned. He'd been too enraged by the prospect of someone trying to humiliate him to even consider this possibility. It was true. For the prank to work, they’d eventually have to reveal themselves. Mollified, he nodded to the Headmaster once and stood up, “Yes, Sir. I’ll take my leave now,” he told him stiffly.
“Severus,” Snape glanced over at him, his face devoid of emotion, “Try to enjoy it. You may be surprised.” He scowled and scoffed at Dumbledore before he turned and left the room.
--
The day passed slowly for Harry. Once he’d gotten to the Great Hall, he’d been met with a curious and somewhat suspicious Hermione. He figured that Ron must have told her about this morning and made a note to himself to be more careful when he was writing in his journal. He had been lucky it had only been Ron that had caught him. If he was too careless someone like Malfoy might get their hands on it!
He spent the rest of the day feeling grumpy and avoiding both Ron and Hermione (while pretending he wasn’t) the best that he could. They were too inclined to talk to him and he just wanted some time to himself to think. It was hard seeing as they were in almost all of his classes. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one in a bad mood, either. Snape had been all over him today. It was almost like the man had been hovering behind him and nitpicking at every little thing he did so he could find a mistake to yell at him for and take away house points.
By the time his break rolled around, the urge to flee was too much and he took off to the library for some peace and quiet. He picked out the most secluded place in the library and sat down on the floor in the corner of it before taking out his journal and opening it.
He was shocked to find yet another entry written there already. He frowned in confusion and ignored the bad feeling that was beginning to worm its way deep into his stomach. When could they have found the time to respond? He had kept the journal with him all day. The only time he hadn’t been holding on to it was when he had been busy taking a shower. Could they have followed him in there and responded while he had been busy cleaning himself off? It didn’t sound likely but it was the only thing that made sense.
Harry squinted at the page. All along the side and at the top was the man's handwriting. It was tiny and bunched together, though, making it hard to read. Some of it was even scratched out. It reminded Harry of when he was still in his muggle school. He had used the edges of his math homework to solve a bunch of equations. The only difference was that it seemed to be in another language and that it was obviously not math. The only words he could actually make out from all of the nonsense were: “You own the book? Impossible.” and "Betrothal Pads."
Beneath the large mess was the actual entry:
I wrote in it because it was there and I had something to say.
Harry felt more confused than ever. Despite that, he did feel more confident that it was someone in his dorm room again. S was no longer acting as though he were the victim that had had his privacy intruded upon. He shrugged to himself and sat there for a while, wondering how it would be appropriate to respond to such an awkward message.
Well, you seem like an interesting person. Would you mind very much if I wished to know more about you?
He shut the journal and held it to his chest. Who was S? What did S stand for? His first name? Middle name? Last name? Was it even related to his name or was it just some random letter that he had decided to use? What was S like? Why was he being so secretive about answering his journal? How could he figure out who he was?
More importantly, how could he reveal who S was that didn’t include asking him? He already knew the other man wouldn’t tell him- if he would have, he wouldn’t have gone through such lengths to hide his identity from him in the first place. Well… the boy responded to him mostly at night. So, if he stayed up all night and pretended to be asleep, he’d eventually have to show himself, right?
--
The next morning found Harry stiff, aching and so tired that he found himself shaking his head every few minutes as if he were attempting to clear the cobwebs from it. The only way that seemed to ‘help’ him was by making him dizzy and slightly nauseous. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark purple lines under them stood out starkly again his too pale skin. All in all, he looked like shit.
The worst part of it all was that no one had come! Now he was going to feel sick and horrible all day for nothing. He slumped forward in his bed and pouted. He had been so certain that by the next morning he would know the identity of his secret friend that he had never considered the possibility that they might decide to wait before responding again.
Dammit! What a letdown! He rolled his eyes and forced himself to roll out of bed despite the fact that every muscle in his body was screaming at him to be lazy and finally give into the need to sleep. He ignored it. Barely.
It was still early but the other boys would be waking soon. He brought a hand up to his neck and rubbed the sore muscles there, wincing . It was going to be a long day. Quickly, he changed his clothes and gathered his belongings, making sure to include the journal. He gave up quickly on trying to tame his wild hair and pocketed his wand before he left his dorm room.
He settled down in the common room which was thankfully empty and sighed. He shouldn’t be this disappointed. He really shouldn’t! What had he been expecting, anyway? Harry shrugged to himself in response and was unable to stop a wide yawn from temporarily taking control of his mouth. Merlin, he was really tired! What had happened?
When he had been 12 he had easily been able to stay awake for days on end! And now, suddenly, he found himself actually needing more sleep then eight hours a night! It was almost like something was draining his energy or his magic.
He bit the inside of his cheek and decided that he would go to Madam Pomfrey to ask for a Pepper-Up potion (1). Normally he wouldn’t have bothered because he hated the idea of steam wafting out of his ears for the next few hours but he was certain he wouldn’t last the whole day without it.
Harry gathered up his things and held them tightly to his chest as he stood up and started his long trek from the seventh floor (Gryffindor Tower) to the third floor’s Hospital Wing. As he walked through the halls of Hogwarts he found the silence to be almost deafening. He was used to the loud chatter of the students or even the quiet sounds of the ghosts as they drifted by. It was unnerving and, at the same time, relieving.
He didn’t have to hold up his usual “savior” façade for his peers, the “successful student” for his teachers or the “saint potter” for his rival Slytherins. He could simply be himself. Just Harry. This was, of course, what he had wanted all along. It was rather hard to be yourself, though, when the entire wizarding world seem to be watching and analyzing your every move.
A small but tired smile pulled at his lips despite his aching body and fuzzy head as he surveyed the floor he was walking on, lost in his thoughts. It was in this moment of carelessness that he abruptly ran into a firm chest. He blinked a few times and he stumbled back with wide eyes, apologizing immediately, “I’m sorry--” he broke off when he found himself face to face with one Severus Snape.
“Harry Potter…” he started, glowering down at him past his hooked nose. Harry felt a shiver creep down his back at the way the Professor said his name. “Not only do you refuse to pay attention in class but in general everyday life as well? My, my. You’re even more like your filthy father then I had originally thought. The resemblance between the two of you is simply uncanny.”
Harry said nothing for a long moment as Snape watched him with something akin to amusement. He stood rigidly before him with his face flushed pink in anger and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He glanced up at Snape and felt his stomach twist at the look on his face. It was rare that he would be privileged enough to see such a pleasant expression (even if it was at his own expense).
Sadly, it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. Soon it had transformed into a somewhat confused sneer that succeeded in pulling Harry out of his semi-dazed state. “I--STOP COMPARING ME TO MY FATHER!” he snarled without his usual scorn, falling back into his old habits. Snape relaxed (well, as much as he can), feeling more comfortable in the familiar territory.
The snarky man narrowed his eyes at Harry in warning and with an icy expression he leaned forward until he was mere inches from his face (to which Harry felt his heart begin to race) and hissed, “You would do well to hold your tongue. Ten points from Gryffindor.”
He watched Snape skulk away, his robes billowing behind him, with a dumbfounded expression. “I… what?” he murmured to himself, wondering what was wrong with him. Why had he reacted like that? Harry shook his head and began to gnaw on his lower lip as he continued his journey to the Hospital Wing.
By the time he arrived, Madam Pomfrey was not only up and about but tidying up the beds nearby in preparation to an unforeseen accident. She glanced up when she heard him walk in and frowned. “Oh, Mr. Potter. Have you been injured doing something dangerous again?” she wondered curiously, raking her eyes over his form (at a distance) as she checked for wounds.
Harry shook his head and smiled sheepishly. “No, Madam Pomfrey. Actually, ah, I wanted to know if I could have a Pepper-Up potion?”
Her frown grew deeper and she bustled forward to inspect him. “Hmm, overly pale adorned with a deep flush… clammy skin… rather warm temperature… bloodshot eyes. Yes, you may be coming down with a cold. How are you feeling?” she asked him as she ran her wand over him and checked his vitals.
Harry, feeling awkward, shuffled back and forth as she examined him. He had come to ask for the potion because of the unique side effect it had. It was similar to that of a muggle energy drink, really- though it was a lot stronger. Not that he was going to tell her that, of course! “My head hurts and my throat is aching,” he lied.
She nodded at him with furrowed eyebrows and guided him over to the closest bed. “Well, you sit here, dear, and I’ll go fetch you the potion.” Harry did as she requested and set his books down next to him. Hopefully this was a sign that his day wouldn’t be quite as bad he had originally thought.
--
The day seemed to drift by like a blur. He had been pleased to receive an owl from Sirius during breakfast but his happy mood soon faded as he was pestered by both Hermione and Ron to explain the details of his Godfather’s whereabouts.
It almost seemed to be a never ending cycle recently. The more he avoided Ron and Hermione, the more they bugged him. The more they bugged him, the more he avoided them. He knew it was his fault for being so distant and secretive recently. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell them what was really going on; at least, not yet.
Harry settled himself down in the library and opened his journal to see if S had responded to him yet. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes bulged almost impossibly wide. S had -- was -- responding. The words were fading onto the page atop the lines and it distinctly reminded him of the incident with Tom Riddle in his second year. He slammed the book shut as his mind raced and his heart pounded in his chest.
A few minutes ticked by before he tentatively opened the book again and turned to the last page that was written on. He peered down at it, noticing that it was finished since the words were no longer appearing on the page.
Interesting? I suppose. Why don’t you explain yourself first?
He swallowed thickly and shut the book again, immediately deciding not use it until he had managed to figure out exactly what it was and whether or not it was dangerous.
A few days went by as Harry ravaged the library, looking through everything he could get his hands on (even the restricted section!); Ron and Hermione were less then pleased with his frequent disappearances and were beginning to become a bit testy. Every time they saw him they would begin to demand what he was up to, where he had been and why he was avoiding them.
Harry didn’t particularly want to avoid them and keep them out of the loop. He just didn’t want them nagging him about the journal all the time. Hermione would because she would think it was a threat and Ron would back her up to get on her good side.
He sighed and grabbed the object that was the cause of all of this fuss. It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary- but it most certainly was! The boy opened it and began to reread the entries that had been written. He was startled to find that underneath the last entry from the other person sat a new, now annoyed one.
Harry told himself that he shouldn’t have been so surprised to discover that his anonymous “friend” had cared enough to inquire about his abrupt disappearance. His unease deepened as he read the entry the other person had left:
I’m curious. I wonder where you have gotten to. Did you drop off the face of the earth or have you simply fallen over and died?
‘Well… that was rather blunt, wasn’t it?’ he mused to himself. Despite the awkward way the question was worded, Harry thought he could feel at least a little sincere worry in it. This only helped to make him worry even more. How could he be truly sure that this person wasn’t out to get him?
But what if they were good? If he blew them off now and it turned out there was nothing to be concerned about, he would regret it later. Sighing deeply, he leaned down and warily wrote out a response before plunging headfirst back into his research.
Sorry. I’ve been feeling sick recently. I was told to take it easy and rest before I make my condition worse. I’ll write again when I’m feeling better.
A few hours came and went and Harry hadn’t progressed in the least. He growled and dragged his hand through his hair roughly in irritated frustration. He hadn’t found a single thing relating to what he was looking for and it seemed like he was going to have to drag in a professional. He swallowed thickly and winced. He was going to have to tell Hermione- and she wasn’t going to like it.
--
“-- and that’s what happened,” Harry confided to Hermione.
Hermione frowned and he could tell she was less then pleased with him. “Harry, this sounds a lot like--”
“Some evil scheme that Voldemort is cooking up? I know,” he confessed. “That’s why I’ve stopped talking to him. I want to be sure that it’s safe too. That’s why I’ve been trying to figure out what this is; if there’s anything written about it in any of the books in the library.”
She clicked her tongue once and looked away, her mouth set in a firm, unhappy line. “So, have you come up with anything?”
“Well I--Er, I mean…” He paused, not wanting to tell her no. He knew that had it been her, that she would have at least found something in all the time he had wasted without confiding in anyone. He didn’t want to appear stupid or to have been wasting his time. He closed his eyes and thought about everything he’d read already. Oddly, his mind was drawn back to the one entry written by S. What were those words? “Betrothal Pad.”
Hermione stiffened and her eyes widened a little, “What?”
“Oh, I…well. I guess I was just wondering if--”
She cut him off abruptly, “You think it’s a betrothal pad?” Her eyes swept over the journal with appraisal. “Hmm… well, I doubt it but it’s not impossible,” She muttered more to herself then to anyone else.
Harry started. “You mean it really exists!?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. She gave him a look and he turned pink. “I mean, uh. Well, I wasn’t aware that it was. What is it? Is there any information about it in any of the books here?”
Hermione nodded at him. “Yes, there is one book I know of. I finished reading it about two months ago. Here, follow me.” She beckoned him to follow her as she gathered her stuff.
Harry watched Hermione as she led the way into the deepest section of the library. She was tense and her expression was pinched tight. He followed her for a good five minutes before she finally came to a stop. “Ah, here we are.” They were in a small alcove that he had never seen or even noticed before. All of the books there were old and rather thick. He watched with fascination as her face twisted into a relaxed expression (she always did seem to be more comfortable with books than anyone else) as she ran her finger over the tops of them, “Mm, it’s around here somewhere…ah-ha!” she murmured with satisfaction as she pulled out a tall book.
She lovingly ran her hand along the spine of it and caressed it before she seated herself on the floor. Hermione placed the book on the ground and opened it with care before she started running her finger along the index. When she came up with nothing, she frowned. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought for a few minutes as she contemplated. Moments later, her expression brightened and she ran her finger along the index once again. It didn’t take long before her finger had stopped and, as Harry noticed when he peered down beside her, landed on the words “Spondeo Libri.”
He frowned and gave her a confused expression. “The whole book is in Latin,” she explained when she noticed the look. He nodded at her and watched as she flipped through the book until she landed on the designated page. She held the book up and her eyes scanned the paper, “Ah, here it is… because it’s in Latin, I’m going to have to read it to you.” She didn’t bother to stop and wait for his response. She simply began to read out loud.
--
“In the mid 1700s, a witch by the name of Gondoline Oliphant (2) (more commonly known for her studies of life and the habits of trolls) created the Betrothal Pad. Originally, it was a wad of parchment with a strange assortment of charms and spells cast upon it (all recollection of which ones have been lost) that allowed a fellow witch or wizard to communicate only with the person whom had the matching partner to it.
As the difficulty of keeping it safe increased, she bound the parchment in a black leather book and cast a new slew of spells upon it to ensure maximum animosity and safety. It was nearly 10 years later before she had finally completed the first set of Betrothal Pads.
As the name suggests, they were created for the sole purpose of choosing a suitable witch or wizard for betrothal purposes (more often than not by purebloods). Two years before their child comes of age, their parents begin to contact other families and together they decide to give them the Betrothal Pads. The children then begin to get to know each other without the slightest idea of whom they’re talking to. This allows the child to get to know the other person without worry of outside prejudices influencing their decisions. In a few months time, the parents question them and discover whether or not the children are able to tolerate one other. If so, they have a match, a single meeting, and the wedding plans begin. If not, they try again.
Every night in which the both holders of the book have written in the Betrothal Pad, they are subjected to visit with one another in their sleep. While they are able to see each other in their dreams, they are unable to recognize one another. When they awaken, they are able to clearly recall the other holder's face but they are unable to place where they may have seen that person from.
Each book has an enormous amount of charms and spells placed upon it to make it impossible for the holders to discover whom the other is without an outside source telling them. An artificial intelligence is placed inside the book. It reviews all entries and deletes anything it believes may be a clue as to whom the other holder is.
The Betrothal Pad draws the magical energy necessary to keep the charms and spells intact from the holders as they use it. When they sleep at night (amidst the dream), their powers are replenished so the effects of the drain do not interfere with the Holder’s everyday life.
Oliphant was clubbed to death while sketching in the Cotswold and all the secrets of the Betrothal Pads died along with her. As there are only 25 sets of Betrothal Pads in existence (and most were lost during the early 1800s), it was essential that the original ones had a proof of authenticity. It didn't take long before fake sets began to be reproduced. Oliphant placed a thin, red thread of binding on the inside of them. All one needs to do is to tap their wand along said binding three times and demand, "Show thy maker." Within moments, Oliphant will reveal herself.”
As she finished, Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with the given information. It was still too suspicious, too convenient that Harry should just happen to find one of the few Betrothal Pads still in existence. Not only had he possibly managed to find it, but, the matching partner to it was active and in the hands of someone else! What were the chances? Minimal to none. Something just wasn’t right.
She sighed, pushing down the feeling of foreboding that was threatening to overwhelm the pit of her stomach. “Harry, let me see it. I want to check and see if it’s real.” He pulled it out and held it in his hands for a long moment as though he were reluctant to even let her touch it before he finally handed it over to her.
She almost smiled in relief. As she took it in her hands she felt the power it held within it humming thickly in the air. She swallowed deeply and opened it to the last page. Hermione watched Harry out of the corner of her eye as she lifted her wand and tapped the binding three times before whispering softly, “Show thy maker.”
A moment passed and nothing happened… and then the humming of the book increased by tenfold. The power throbbing around it was so substantial that she could taste it. There was a flash of crimson light from the binding that momentarily blinded her. She gasped and held her hand up to her eyes to shade them from the light. It faded slowly and left a small woman in its place along the middle of the binding. She was about a foot in height with blonde hair that was pulled back into a braid that fell down the middle of her back. Atop her head sat a crumpled, pointy, green hat. Her body was clothed with an elegant, light brown dress and a green cloak.
She looked around for a moment before her chocolate brown eyes lay upon Harry. “You are the holder of this Betrothal Pad?”
Harry blinked stupidly for a moment before he nodded at her, “Uh, yes! I am. I’m Harry Potter.”
She nodded at him and smiled softly, “Take my hand.” She held her tiny hand out in his direction. Hesitantly, he reached out to her with his pointer finger and pressed it gently into her palm. A zap of red electricity seemed to shoot through him. His body became rigid; as though it were stretched farther than it was meant to go, past its straining point. It lasted for mere seconds but to Harry it seemed like forever. Then it was over. His body went slack and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Hermione cried out and jumped forward, catching his shoulders and his head before they could hit the ground. With wide eyes, she lowered his head into her lap and began to stroke his hair out of his face. “Harry? Harry…?”
He was still for a moment and even his breathing seemed to have slowed down. Then, his eyes opened just a crack and he groaned, “It’s real.”
Hermione hissed quietly in annoyance, “I don’t care! Are you okay?! What happened?”
“Mm? Oh, when I touched her, she showed me the book’s past. Flashes of images shot into my head. She showed me a few bits and pieces of how the book was put together, all of the people who had used it before.” He smiled at her and ran his hand through his hair as he sat up again. “It’s okay. It’s safe, Hermione. It’s not some plot of Voldemort’s to come back.”
“Harry, you don’t know that!” she protested weakly. “You have no idea who the other person you’re talking to is. It could be You-Know-Who!”
Harry laughed, “Why would Voldemort go through all this trouble just to talk to me? It’s not like he’s shy. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d do it!”
Hermione’s unease grew even deeper as she witnessed how attached to the book he seemed to be, “But Harry… I think you should tell Dumbledore about this. You should let him examine the Betrothal Pad and determine if it’s safe or not! That way we could be certain--”
Harry glared at her, “No, Hermione! Why do you always have to over-examine everything?! Why can’t you just let things be? Why can’t you trust me?”
“Excuse me? Harry, I didn’t have to help you with this. I didn’t even want to! I did it because you were my friend and you needed my help. Why can’t you just give me the benefit of the doubt?” she demanded from him angrily.
“Why won’t you give me it?!” Harry didn’t give her a chance to respond; he just turned and stormed out of the library with the notebook under his arm.
Hermione glared after him, tears shimmering in her eyes. Why couldn’t he see she was just trying to help him? Was it really that hard for him to understand that she just didn’t want him to get hurt?! She took her time putting the book away and gathering her things, regaining control over her emotions and thoughts as she did so. By the time she left the library, she looked as though she had never been crying to begin with.
--
Harry knocked on the door that led to Dumbledore's office in confusion. For what reason could the Headmaster have to talk with him today? He'd seen the man not even a week ago and had been told that nothing of importance seemed to be going on at the moment. Perhaps something had happened? I hope no one has been hurt, thought Harry. He hoped if something had happened it was minor. If it was minor, though, he doubted Dumbledore would have bothered to tell him.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's grave voice urged him. He felt his stomach flip and contract painfully at the tone of his voice. He reached up and pushed the door open. Inside, the Headmaster sat at his desk with a serious expression. Hermione sat in one of the chairs before his--wait, Hermione?! His head snapped over in her direction and she winced, immediately dropping her eyes to the ground with a guilty expression.
Harry felt anger and betrayal surge through his body like an electric shock. Oh no. Tell me she hadn’t! "Harry, I'd like you to let me see that journal of yours." She had!
To Be Continued...
1) Pepper-Up Potion Yes, I know this potion is used to cure the common cold. I made one of the side effects of using it to be similar to that of drinking an energy drink. It helps to make you more alert and awake. So sue me (not really)! D:
2) The Character, Gondoline Oliphant, does not belong to me. She, too, belongs to JK Rowling. xD I used some information I found on her site to better weave this character into my story.
_______________________________________________________________________
Writer's Note: First off, I want to apologize for being late to update this story by a few days! TT.TT That wasn't my intention. To make up for it, I made the chapter longer then I was originally planning to. It's my longest chapter yet! YAY! Now, if you're wondering WHY I was late in updating... the main reason is because of a writer's block. It was horrible. I knew EXACTLY what I wanted to write but I was unable to write it. I was so frustrated that I even ended up crying. o.o;; Also, I had to send it to my beta for corrections. It took her three or four days of my nagging her (I'M SORRY!) before she gave me the beta'd version. I feel bad about it now. D:
My beta, Obsessed4Life, had to help me with several areas because it was so bad. x.x;; I almost felt like quitting. I didn't, though, because I want to finish this story. If I do, it will be the first ever story that I've finished! Yeah, I know, bad track record. D:
Aargh, it would seem that my muse for this story is attempting to escape- and it's succeeding. In fact, it seems to have eloped with my motivation to write even! Isn't that horrible?! The battle tactic it is using is called "Writer's Block." How annoying. =/ QUICK! SOMEONE! CATCH IT! STOP IT! DON'T LET IT ESCAPE!
Also, I would like to credit my beta for giving me the following three alternative sentences to use: "An intriguing story, Severus, but by no means will I discourage you from corresponding with H! ; She took her time putting the book away and gathering her things, regaining control over her emotions and thoughts as she did so. ; I hope no one has been hurt, thought Harry. He hoped if something had happened it was minor."