Chapter Eight: Morning in the Girls Room
Time: Morning 7/14/95
Sapphire opened her eyes and blinked at the dim outlines of an unfamiliar room. In her dreams, she had been back at her cabin in the forest. As the previous day came back to her, she became conscious that she was being watched. A young girl was propped on one elbow observing her from a bed across the room. Another girl did likewise from the opposite side.
Sapphire's thoughts finally formed into something like coherent speech. "Looks like I woke you two. Was I talking in my sleep?"
Hermione spoke first. "I'm glad you don't remember. It sounded like a terrible nightmare."
"You were trying to scream," added Ginny.
"Sorry!" said Sapphire through a yawn that almost locked her jaws. When they would move again she added, "I think I know which nightmare it was; it will almost certainly happen again. Maybe you two should evict me before you get sleep deprived."
"Mrs. Weasley is right. I don't think you should be alone here at night," said Hermione quickly. "After you get used to this place, you will probably sleep better. And if you don't, you could have a sleeping aid."
Before she could ask what that aid might be, Ginny said simply, "Don't apologize. You couldn't help it," and continued to study Sapphire with an interest that made her self-conscious.
After a minute of awkward silence, Sapphire asked her audience of two, "Is it time to get up?"
"Near enough, " said Hermione. "Breakfast usually starts around eight, and it's 7:20 now. But we can save you something if you want to sleep some more."
"Well, thanks, but why don't I just get up now, and leave you two to get another half hour of more peaceful sleep?" Sapphire said, sitting up with a stifled groan. Her back felt like she'd been beaten with a stick all over it. As she put her weight on her feet, she remembered that she had strained a knee when she landed on the inside of the window, and again when she jumped to her feet after repelling the binding spell. She limped over to her pack and gingerly bent to fish out her hair brush. She took a sharp breath when she tried to straighten up again, decided against it and, still bent, slid carefully onto the dressing table stool. She began coaxing the tousled braid from her long black hair. Now and again she winced and froze as a movement sent needles into her back. She was going to pay dearly, it seemed, for avoiding that spell.
Ginny rose from her bed and walked up behind her. "Can I brush your hair?" she asked.
"Wouldn't you rather sleep?"
"You need some help," Ginny said simply. "Besides, I want to. Your hair is so shiny." Sapphire chuckled and, smiling, surrendered the brush. Hermione had turned over to watch.
The gentle regular strokes on her hair were soothing. "You have a nice touch," she said to Ginny. "When I was younger than you, I had a cousin that always wanted to brush my hair. I wouldn't let her for the longest, because I just hated having my hair brushed. My mother made it feel like she was pulling it out, yanking the brush through as hard as it would go. I was so surprised when I finally let Betty brush it and found out it didn't have to be painful."
"Why would your mother do that?" Ginny asked.
"Oh, she hated my hair. Hated that it was black like granny M's and hated that it was long, 'like a wild woman's', she used to say. What she really meant was that it reminded her that I was turning out to be like her mother in law. She would have made me cut it off, but my dad said I could grow it long if I wanted." Sapphire laughed and continued after a moment's thought. "She still tells me regularly that I'm too old to wear it long. She gave me a coupon book to a quick-cut place for Christmas last year. Said I ought to get a perm and have a dye job to hide the gray."
"I'm glad you didn't," said Ginny, frowning and smoothing the waterfall of mostly black tresses with her hand. "I like the silver bits. It reminds me of spell sparks in a pitch black room. I always wanted shiny black hair," she added wistfully.
"Don't change a thing. Some women would kill for that fiery mane of yours," Sapphire retorted. Ginny just frowned more and kept brushing.
The soft strokes on her hair continued a long time. Sapphire would have closed her eyes, except that she was afraid of going back to sleep sitting at the dresser; so she stared into the mirror at the dim reflections, first of her own face and then the girl's. She couldn't help thinking that the tired face looking back at her ought to belong to someone else -- and thinking that, even absent the bags and lines of creeping middle age, Ginny's eyes looked almost as old as her own.
"I have a nightmare that comes back, too." Ginny said quietly, as though reading her mind. "It has a young man in it who turns into a snake."
"Did something like that happen to you?" asked Sapphire.
"You could say that; yes. At school, the nurse gives me a potion when it gets too bad. Sometimes my roommates put a soundproof charm around my bed, so I don't wake them." She related this thing with an improbable detachment.
Sapphire thought a minute and offered, "I was dreaming about whatever killed my mule two years ago. But in the dream, it isn't always the mule that dies." Ginny didn't ask who died. Sapphire guessed she didn't really need to.
"Should I braid it again?" Ginny asked.
"That would be nice, dear."
After a while, Hermione spoke. "Did you hurt yourself when you fought off Snape?" Ginny, who had missed the fireworks, stopped braiding.
Sapphire chuckled. "Any maneuver like that is rough on someone of my vintage. Besides, my back already hurt from the train trip and all the bending over collecting herbs I was doing before that."
"You didn't act hurt yesterday," Hermione observed.
"Never let your opponent see your weakness," Sapphire said. "Looking weak just encourages your attacker." She was quoting her own brother, she realized.
"Did it hurt very badly when you rolled and threw the spell back?" Hermione asked with interest.
"It's hard to say, young girl friend. There's nothing to take your mind off of pain like having to defend yourself. Truly though, things stiffen a bit overnight as you get older. I'll be better when I've been up a while."
"I wish I had been there," Ginny said, resuming her work more firmly. "Ron said you made Snape look like an amateur."
"That may not be something we want to dwell on, " Sapphire said seriously. "I'm afraid it may be hard for us to get along since I bested him in front of other people. I'll have to find a way to earn his respect if he's going to get past the wound to his pride."
"He doesn't respect anyone as far as I can tell," said Ginny. "And I wouldn't worry about getting along. He certainly doesn't."
"He has a troubled past," Hermione said in a somewhat reproachful tone.
"I suspect he has trouble enough in the present," Sapphire said. "Does he live alone? Is there anyone he's close to?"
"He hates everyone," said Ginny with finality.
"That's not true, " said Hermione. "He likes Dumbledore."
"What makes you think that?" Ginny countered. "He's said all sorts of derogatory things about Dumbledore -- like saying he's gullible to believe Harry sometimes. I think he only sticks with Dumbledore because he needs the job and the protection."
"Dumbledore is the old, white bearded fellow that showed up yesterday?" Sapphire queried, thinking it might be good to redirect the conversation.
"Yes, " said Hermione, "that's him."
"He's a character, isn't he?" she asked.
"Well, he's rather unique in a number a ways," Hermione conceded.
"He's the most powerful wizard in the world," Ginny added. "The only one You-Know-Who is afraid of. Ron says he's crazy, but he really adores him."
Sapphire laughed. "Talented, beloved and crazy! That's the very definition of a 'character' where I come from." Then she added, mostly to herself, "I wonder why they called him 'Albus?' Maybe it was snowing when he first saw light."
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.
"His name means 'white'. I wonder if it was snowing the day they named him."
"I never thought about it before," Hermione mused. ÒBut he does love snow. His eyes light up like a kidÕs when we get the first good one of the season.Ó
Ginny had plaited the last of Sapphire's long hair, and handed her a mirror for inspection. "Very nice! I see you are an expert," she said, handing back the mirror as they exchanged grins. Sapphire collected some clothes from her pack and, with a bit less hesitation than the last time, stood. "I'd better wash my face and tidy up a bit. See? I'm not as stiff now that the blood's been flowing a bit." With only minimal limping, she made her way to the bath down the hall.
________
It wasn't until she had finished dressing that she realized the sword was still under the mattress in the girls room. "Well, what could happen really?" she was thinking as she pulled open the bathroom door to exit and almost ran headlong into a man. She gasped and jumped back. The man looked equally surprised, but only stood there, just outside the door frame, staring at her.
He wasn't a reassuring sight. Several days growth of stubble on his face failed to hide some rather alarming scratches. His bushy hair was a dirty gray and stuck out in all directions as if it hadn't seen a comb for as long as his face hadn't seen a razor. He was draped in a brown robe with rips, frays and patches in plenty. However, the most disconcerting thing about him was not that he looked like he'd been living under a bridge for a long time. It was his eyes. They had an indescribable wildness to them. The overlarge pupils, round and black as deep wells, seemed to stare at her from some ancient and alien depth that had no part in the indoor world of men.
Seeing no route of escape, she stood entirely still, hoping he would leave on his own; but he seemed incapable of speech or motion, and only stared back at her, eyes wide and fixed. Then a voice spoke in Sapphire's mind -- a memory of her grandmother.
"Waya." Sapphire whispered the word before the meaning came to her. When she did remember, it was as though she had both grasped a truth and uncovered a mystery. Still wondering where the thought had come from, she spoke again, this time addressing him deliberately. "Waya?" Being spoken to, the man blinked, and seemed somehow to comprehend the situation better. He stepped back from the door several paces, and allowed her to exit. When she had backed away to the opposite side of the corridor, he sidled into the bathroom. Their eye contact was finally broken as he closed the door. Sapphire suddenly felt a little weak. She had almost certainly been holding her breathe and her heart was pounding. Perhaps Sirius wasn't being paranoid about her safety here. She resolved to retrieve the rapier before she did anything else.
@ 1,975 words, Last Edit 7/24/07
Posted by Madmaxime at September 10, 2007 03:45 PM