Anyone But Me

Chapter Eighty-Six

The loud pounding of her heartbeat was synchronized with her hurried stomps as she trudged along the memorized path toward Gryffindor Tower. She regretted walking out before her mind had thought up the countless rebuttals she wanted to yell at the prick. Outraged at the gall in his claim, she wondered just how long the Room would protect her secrets if she had enacted Ginny's special form of punishment...

His insistence that it was her feelings for him that stopped her from completing the cast correctly despite his radical correction was one thing. Him halting the lessons, because he believed it was insanity to reinforce her conviction that she had to be the one, was another. He'd refused to recognize the obvious liability there was in having an Order member with such sensitive information in constant close proximity to those who would do anything to please their master.

"They would be better off dead than the brainless husks you will turn them into and I will not be held responsible if you do not heed my advice. You will have to shoulder that blame yourself."

There was no way for her to properly articulate that it was fear, not love, that stayed her hand.

She had made phenomenal progress outside of their lessons. To the point that there was a poor adolescent buck who was thoroughly convinced he had birthed and raised three separate batches of pups. The difference was... She didn't have to worry about witnessing the horrific brutalization and execution of innocents within the confines of her parents' memories. She didn't have to worry about leaving some tell-tale sign of intrusion that would tip off Voldemort messing with the castle rats.

Draco's lack of confidence stung and reinforced her own doubts.

Tongue-tied from the degrading images his unwarranted words crafted of her parents, she had fled from the room. A hasty decision which left her alone with the inept fury that grew every time the conjured visions of their disfigured bodies resurfaced.

How could she argue with the unspoken truth woven into each letter of his callous frustration?

They would be better off dead than having her for a daughter.

A daughter who was willing to risk them becoming nothing but shells to avoid an additional reason for prolonged agony in the event the person who helped her was captured.

A daughter who chose Harry, despite the danger her affiliation put them in.

A daughter who understood, all too well, that they were doomed to be collateral damage the moment she had been conceived.

They would be better off if she had never existed.

Her macabre downward spiral was sharply cut short as she rounded a corner and slammed into a hunched form. Obscured by the shadows spawned by the late hour, Hermione wasn't able to discern the identity of the figure as their incoherent curse was covered by the sound of shattering glass.

"Who... Who's there?"

Trelawney whispered to the darkness of what appeared to be an empty corridor. The witch's words were slurred but she wasn't near drunk enough to be led to believe she had imagined the entire collision.

Any hope Hermione had of sneaking back the way she had come was dashed the second the strong aroma of sherry hit her nose. She audibly gagged and revealed her exact position to the suspicious teacher. Already queasy from the emotional bedlam of her night, she was unable to prevent the hot bile from spilling between her lips. There was barely time to pull the invisibility cloak aside before her sick splattered the stone floor.

"Lumos."

Bright light erupted from the tip of the professor's wand, but she couldn't move from her stooped posture or stop heaving until her stomach was completely emptied. Dripping with sweat, she felt as the rest of the coarse fabric was tugged from her body and landed in the mixing puddles of foul fluids. The thought of having to clean the mess from the contaminated wool had her retching again.