With Stitches.

The darkness sweeps over me, quick, yet stealthy; ready to encase my body into complete nothingness. I let the screams roll from my lips, and yet no sound seems to leave my throat. I run, but go no where; I sob, and yet no tears run down my face. Suddenly, a cloak unwraps from around me, a mirror now in the darkness’ place. I see myself, beautifully corrupted. My clothes flash from perfect to torn to shreds and back again; my curls are wrapped into an elegant bun, then are down, ratted, and are full of leaves and twigs. My face is precious, porcelain-like, then is cut and bruised, blood smeared across my lips and cheek. A monster stands behind, shifting from his ugly, vicious self, to a young, attractive man.

I no longer want to look at my reflection, nor his, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. I look down, trying to at least dismiss the looks of my condition, but I find blood running down my arm and off my hand, coming from underneath my sleeve. I shakily pull up the sleeve of my shirt, gasping as I find what lies beneath.

The mark on my arm, the Dark Mark that is on the likes of tLucious, Bellatrix, and the other Death Eaters is there, quickly switching to bloody, pus covered stitches.

“No,” I say silently, looking to the glass once again, straight into the eyes of this demon. “You said you wouldn’t,”

Lord Voldemort’s sinister cackle echoes through the darkness that is engulfing me once again. I try to scream, and the sound rings through the emptiness. Nothing else can be seen, nothing else can be heard; I am alone.

I start up right, sweating and breathing heavily. Looking around the dark dorm, at the girls blankets moving up and down with there steady breathing, I determine that my screams weren’t heard out loud this time, and I shakily sigh, silently standing and walking out of the room. I creep down the stairs, tip-towing the way. Once I reach the floor of the common room, I grab my wand and a glass, casting a simple spell for water. Once that was gulped down, I step to the couch, sitting down in front of the burning fire.

The common room is dark, only illuminated by the dancing flames of the fireplace and white beams of the moon streaming onto the carpeted floors through the bay windows. Across the wall I spot the silhouettes of the now peaceful, sleeping pictures and the proud, dangling shadows of the cloth Gryffindor banners. Many awards and metals dimly shine, along with the house cup sitting a top a high shelf, proving that Gryffindor must be the best.

I let my eyes glide back into the depths of the fire, resting my head against the cloth of my pants as I bring my knees toward my chest. I hoped that once I escaped the walls of the Malfoy Manor, the nightmares would simply disappear.

I should have known better.

Once you’ve stared into the face of the Devil, there’s no evading those sinister, selfish eyes that glow red with the blood of his victims.

“Dawson?” I jump as Harry stands in front of me, curious, concerned eyes staring down at me, “Why’re you crying?” I quickly brush my fingers across my face, cursing the salty streams streaking down my cheeks.

“I guess I’m just a little bit home sick,” I laugh once, knowing that Harry would never guess it was a lie. Any normal person would miss their home.

Then again, any normal person wasn’t a wizard; and most wizards didn’t have an evil dictator watching them at all times.

“I’d like to say I know how you feel,” Harry murmurs, taking the seat next to me. “But Hogwarts has been more of my home than my actual one has been since my first year,” He laughs slightly, staring into the fire with a deep blankness.

“It seems like a nice place to call home,” I lie, smile pushing through the trembling of my lips. Harry now glances at me, grinning slightly and nodding in response.

“By home, Dawson- Do you mean California, or the Malfoy place?” Harry asks after a moment. I’m taken aback by this question, and I find myself tapping anxiously on the arm of the couch.

“That’s a very difficult question to answer,” I finally reply, contemplating how to respond to his inquiry. He only stares, waiting for me to either answer or change the subject.

“Well… I miss my sister, Lizzy. She looked up to me, I was her roll model… But, I’m angry at my parents for sending me here for some secret reason; for letting me live my life without telling me who I really am.” Though the Malfoy’s passed my travel here off as me learning how to be a witch, I could tell something was hidden behind their motives. I let my eyes drift out into the moonlit sky, stars scattered around the darkness like a billion, brilliant eyes watching intensely down on me. I begin to wonder what time it is there, in California. I wonder if Lizzy needs help with her math homework- She was never very good at math.

“The Malfoy’s, however,” A grin plays on my tight lips as I remember the best parts of summer. “I miss how spotless the place was, how pampered I seemed to be. I miss my private sessions with Severus the most and-” I stop mid-sentence, eyeing Harry cautiously. Though his expression reads disbelief, he urges me to continue. “I also miss how bright and beautiful the summer was there. How much space I had to run around. They have spacious gardens and a roaring fountain; they live in front of a gorgeous green field dotted with every color wild flower. You wouldn’t imagine how many I wanted to pick this summer,” I pause to laugh a bit. “I enjoyed those things, since that’s not exactly what we had in California… Though, I didn’t get to leave the Malfoy house often…”

“You sound kind of like a prisoner, to me,” Harry mumbles, watching me intently.

“You have no idea,” I chuckle absent-mindedly, letting my face rest against my knees again.

“I don’t, you’re correct,” Harry exclaims softly, pulling my chin upward, forcing me to look him in the eye. I suddenly notice how stunning his green eyes really are as they pop out from drooping, exhausted lids, black bags forming boldly underneath. “So, why don’t you explain it to me?” Harry slowly removes his hand from my skin, but keeps his gaze on my own. I can’t be sure if his intensity scares me or enchants me, but I cannot avert my gaze.

“I can’t,” I finally breathe.

“And why is that?” he inquires, stare becoming curious.

“I am forbidden to speak of summer,”

“You’ve already gotten this far, why stop now?” My eyebrows crease, smile forming softly on my lips as I ponder this question.

“The Boy-Who-Lived is quite sneaky,” We smile at each other. “The Malfoy’s told me to keep my summer a secret so nobody would find out that I’ve been doing magic my whole time outside of school,” I falsely explain. He nods a bit, grinning though I know he sees right through this lie.

“You can trust me, you know,” Harry says, stretching his whole body. He’s a bit lanky and quite skinny. I can see a few ribs as the skin expands across his cage.

“I dunno,” I reply with a small smirk. “The Chosen One could have nothing better to do then spread gossip,” He instantly stops stretching, and I realize I shouldn’t have called him the Chosen One. I wasn’t sure if anyone here called him that, I just know that’s one of the names he was known as at the Malfoy house. It’s silent for too long, and I’m about to stand when he asks another question.

“Where did you disappear to last night during supper?” I bite the inside of my lip, thinking of what to say.

“I was supposed to be put into Slytherin,” I answer, letting my fingers tap again. “And so when I was sorted into Gryffindor, I had to speak to Draco about how we could still see and talk to each other. He wasn’t at the Slytherin table, so I went looking for him,”

“Oh, so you two must be dating,” I let out too loud of a laugh, covering my mouth with both my hands as I continue to giggle uncontrollably.

“Me and a Malfoy?! No way in hell! Mudbloods and Purebloods don’t really fit together in this situation, do they? He was just the only one I knew and could ultimately trust and talk to about summer and his home,” Harry smiled, looking amused at my outburst.

“Well, great. There’s nothing stopping me from taking you on a date, then,” Harry lets out a laugh as the surprise shows on my face.

“You, want to take me, on a date?” I clarify, wondering if I even have anything besides jeans and a t-shirt to wear.

And then wondering why I was thinking about dating Harry Potter at all.

“That’s what I said,” he laughs, cheeks a dark pink.

“I would be honored,” I finally reply, smiling up to him.

The sun finally breaks through the darkness of the horizon, ticking clock on the mantel reading 5:13 AM.

“I should go-” we both stop, smiling curiously at each other.

“See you later, Dawson,”

“Can’t wait, Harry,” he climbs the steps slowly back up to the boys dorm and, once out of sight, I let my breath go, following after another moment.

I silently step back into the dorm, girls just beginning to stir. I remove my robes from my case and am thinking nonstop, amused grin on my face.

Harry knew what I was doing, and he was doing exactly the same.

***

“Late on your first day, Ms. Parker,” Severus scolds. “Not the best first impression. Five points from Gryffindor”

“Sorry, Professor,” I reply, smiling a small grin, though I try not to, as my fellow classmates groan. I take the only empty seat left in the crowded potions classroom, next to an awkward looking boy in a black sweater vest and a red and gold tie. He looks at me with surprised eyes, and I laugh to myself, pulling a piece of parchment paper from my out-of-place Batman backpack, beginning to take notes with the quill in front of me.

“The potion we will be making today is Girding Potion. This potion’s effects give the taker a considerable amount of endurance for a number of weeks. I must warn you that this potions maximum dosage is only two vials. Take no more,” Severus sits down at a desk in the corner of the room, blank, somber stare grazing over us. “Take your place at your cauldron and begin. Ingredients on page 439 of your book.”

I stand promptly, striding to the back of the room. An expensive-looking shoe pops into the aisle in front of me and I fall to the ground, hands and knees shredding against the hard, stone floor.

“Watch where you’re stepping, you filthy Half-breed,” Draco spits as his pompous friends laugh uncontrollably, watching me as my face grows hot with anger and I turn to sit up.

“You’ll ruin my shoes,” he shoves me back to the ground, this time my head hitting hard against the stone. My vision blackens for a moment and returns as Draco and his evil group of Slytherins walk away.

“Asshole,” I mumble unbelievably, rubbing the spot on my head where it feels like it‘s been split in two. “Fucking asshole-”

“Do you need help?” I look up to the boy I had sat next to only a minute before, his skinny, lengthy arm stretched out to me.

“Thanks,” I sigh, letting him help me to my feet. I painfully dust the dirt from my robes, feeling the sting of my bleeding palms and knees.

“Don’t let Malfoy get to you,” the boy says, glancing robustly in the direction of Draco’s back. “He’s probably just mad because his daddy finally told him no,” Looking back, the boy smiles slightly, crooked teeth present through his lips.

“That would be a first… I’m Dawson Parker,” I introduce as he escorts me to my cauldron.

“Neville Longbottom,” he replies softly, walking to his own across the aisle. I giggle a bit without thinking.

“Sorry for laughing, but Longbottom? Really?”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s the reaction I get from most people,” Neville shrugs, but it’s obvious that he’s tired of other’s making fun of his strange last name.

“I like it a lot. It’s really unique. Much better than Parker,” I smile brightly at him and he grins back with a bit of surprise.

“I think I saw you sitting a few sits down at the Gryffindor table last night at dinner, am I right?” I ask after a minute. He nods once, reading the steps of how to make the Girding Potion to himself.

“Yeah, that was probably me,” he says simply, seemingly engulfed in his potion. I grin a little, leaving him to his work as I start on my own. I stick my headphones into my ears, drowning the students chatter out with the likes of My Chemical Romance and Paramore. I mouth their lyrics happily, enjoying creating this simple potion. I’m done before all the students, except Neville who had finished a few moments before.

“You must really like this class,” I comment, pulling one bud from my ear as I look at him in amused shock.

“Sure,” he shrugs, walking back over to me to examine my potion. “Snape doesn’t really care for me, though. He’s sort of discriminatory toward Gryffindors. But, in any case, Herbology is my favorite… This looks really great, Dawson,” Though he couldn’t completely look into the pot, mostly because of the atrocious odor wafting from the cauldron, he stirs it with a smile, admiring my work.

“Thanks! I love potion making. Severus has been teaching me the important things all summer!” Neville stares at me curiously, mouth partly open. I curse myself. I’m not supposed to call him Severus in school.

“… I mean Professor Snape has been teaching me… Can I see your’s?” I quickly change the subject, rushing over to Neville’s cauldron. In my stride, I slip on a puddle of the green liquid, flopping onto the floor. My arm roughly slams against his cauldron, foul-smelling potion flying into the air and promptly splashing onto my head, black pot falling next to me. I gag from the smell, large amounts of potion running into my mouth. I pause, then instantly shoot up, rushing for a mop and a bucket and beginning to wash the potion from the floor. It’s cleared in only a moment and I begin to run for the bathroom when Severus stops me with his arm.

“Everyone pay attention, this is a very good learning opportunity,” Severus says, holding me in place while I continue to bounce. “Ms. Parker has consumed far more than an equivalent to two vials of Girding potion and, as a result, will not be able to stop moving or sleep for days,” Severus lets me go, and I swiftly grab my bag and paper, bolting from the classroom, down the hall, and into a girls bathroom. I cleaned myself in minutes.

Though my mind seems to be moving in normal speed, my body is moving ten times faster. Before I can even think of an action, it’s done and, before I know what I’m doing, I’m back inside the potions classroom, everyone laughing at me mockingly.

“Stopit!” I sputter out, pointing at each student in turn. “Don’tlaughatme!” My sentences come out sounding like one word, making them howl even louder. I sigh heavily, racing from the classroom and down the hallway, not sure where I was going, but determined to get away from the teenage mockery as soon as possible.

***

I crashed to the ground, breathing heavily. The potion had suddenly worn off, as if some antidote was poured into my body. I turn over onto my back, feeling the wet dirt below seep through my robes. I take a deep breath, keeping my eyes closed as my head spins with lost energy and endurance. Severus was wrong. It hasn’t been days, it has been only minutes.

Severus was never wrong about a potion…

Severus was also no help in the classroom. He did nothing as my classmates stood around me, pointing as I made a fool of myself. And I still smelled awful, thank you very much!

My nostrils flare, and I cross my arms over my eyes, trying to get angry with him. And then I picture his face, and all the frustrations I had just faced seem to melt away with the force of his dark eyes. I sigh deeply, legs soaking, as well, as I spread them across the damp earth. Letting my arms drop, I open my eyes, letting them focus on the deep, shady canopy overhead. The leaves of the trees blow only slightly in the slow wind, few falling from the chilling branches. The trunks are dim and I am surrounded by them, seeming to enclose on me.

I sit up weakly, bones and muscles aching from the lack of endurance and strength I had before the Girding potion, and I glance around eagerly. Where am I?

I look deeper into the trees, searching intensely for some sort of exit or passage of light, but a curtain of grey incases me, and I gulp.

“Do not, under any circumstances, enter the Forbidden Forest. It is off-limits to students,” I distinctly remember Headmaster Dumbledore commanding before the feast began. Glancing around once more, I decide three things:

1. I was in the Forbidden Forest; there was no question about that.

2. I had no way of finding my way out of the dark mass ahead of me.

And 3. A dark shadow is moving through the trees ahead, coming swiftly toward me.