Daisy Potter and the Wedding (Book 8, Harry Potter ff)

Chapter 36 - What It's Like Living With Dementia

"Shh, shh, hey, it's okay, it's okay." A rough, husky voice was rasping in my ear as I woke, feeling the whimpers die. "You're safe now, baby, you're safe... I'm here..."

The last fleeting images of my nightmare slipped away as I blinked my eyes open fully, taking in a deep breath. Fred was petting my hair as he propped himself up, eyes half closed. I swallowed, sending him a smile in thanks for waking me, but I wasn't sure he saw it. I glanced at the clock across the dorm; it was two in the morning.

I sighed, sending a fond look at my boyfriend as he sagged slowly back onto his pillow, his eyelashes fluttering, and a second later he was out cold again. George was snoring softly on my other side; I glanced back and forth between them then at the clock again. Two a.m. This was the ideal time, and there was no way I was getting back to sleep after what I knew I'd just dreamed about.

I carefully slid out of bed, trying not to wake either of them, and made my way down the spiral staircase, through the common room and portrait hole, quietly closing the snoozing Fat Lady closed behind me. I crept towards the library, tugging the Invisibility Cloak tighter about me as I passed Mrs Norris, and as I reached it I silently slid the volume I had been studying for the past few weeks off of its shelf and hurried for the second floor girls' bathroom with it under my arm.

From there what I did was almost mechanical, like automatic as if from memory. I nodded in greeting to Moaning Myrtle, hissed to the tap with the snake etched on it, stood back as the sink sank into the ground, and hopped down the slide-like pipe into the chamber below. I crunched through the bones of mice and rats and the old snakeskin that was almost dust at this point until I reached the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, turning my wedding ring over and over in my fingers. I gazed around the eerily silent Chamber, leaning briefly against the wall as I forced myself to breathe: in, out. In, out.

"Hello, my love."

"Tommy." I said, turning. I had been expecting him. "How are you?"

Riddle glided towards me from a pipe to my right, folding his arms as he came to a stop in front of me. "I am doing average, considering. I -"

"Mate, I hate to interrupt you, but it was a pleasantry." I said, striding away from him as he followed. "I don't actually care."

Riddle huffed behind me. "That was quite rude and rather unnecessary."

"Good."

I crouched down beside the very same bench Riddle had laid me on in second year. I set the book down onto it, opening it and flicking through the pages to get to the bit I was interested in. I tried to ignore the memories forcing their way into the front of my mind as I read over the words again, tried my best not to shiver at the memory of Riddle leaning down over me on this very bench, whispering and murmuring as he tried to steal my Grace, his handsome eyes gazing down at me... I traced my finger over the paragraph I needed, shaking my head slightly as I tried to rid it of the niggling little spark of fear I always got inside me when I remembered how he had tried to hurt me that day so long ago... and how, despite this, I was still attracted to him.

"What is this all about, my love?" Riddle purred suddenly, making me jump. He drifted down onto the bench before me, phasing through the book to perch on the smooth stone surface beneath it; I sighed in frustration, sitting back on my haunches. "An unexpected visit late at night... a secretive rendezvous between two previous lovers, whose marriage -"

"Shut up." I said. "I need you for a spell. You still hate Floppy, right?"

Riddle cocked his head at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Felix Malfoy. The demon."

"Oh." Riddle drawled, leaning back. He tilted his head back to the ceiling, his sharp jawline emphasised, his hands splayed out on the bench as his ghostly shirt spread around his chest, the three buttons undone at the top showing off the skin underneath, and my eyes widened involuntarily as I repeated, 'no, no, no,' in my mind, no you CANNOT find him hot, especially not after you've killed the man! "Well, of course, my Daisy. He brutally raped you. It is a husband's duty, that if any man harms his lady in this way, to find him and unleash upon him a fate far worse than what she endured."