.-- Pov Extimum --.
** Blink **
I opened my eyes with difficulty. The morning light was unbearably bright, forcing me to squint. As my vision focused, a pounding headache hit me immediately. Everything seemed to spin around me, and a faint wave of nausea began rising in my throat.
I tried to raise a hand to my face, but barely managed to move it. My muscles were stiff, and my body felt surprisingly heavy. The sensation was strangely similar to a hangover; an odd comparison, considering I'd never actually been drunk.
I took a slow breath, waiting for the dizziness to subside.
A sweet floral fragrance, mixed with a faint scent of musk, reached my nose. As I tried to gather my thoughts, I realized the heaviness I felt wasn't solely due to my condition. There was an actual weight resting on top of me.
I lowered my gaze, and a mass of brown hair came into view, spread across my chest.
It was Hermione.
Her naked body rested against mine, the two of us firmly entwined.
Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the light. In truth, the morning wasn't especially bright; if anything, the room was rather dim. It had to be quite early.
As my thoughts slowly became clearer, I moved my tails, carefully undoing the tight embrace that held us together. The movement was subtle. Curiously, my tails didn't seem to share the stiffness affecting the rest of my body.
"R-Reinforcement."
'Damn it... even speaking is difficult.'
With great effort, I managed to utter the incantation. A faint glow spread across my body, followed by a gentle tingling sensation that travelled from my chest to my limbs.
Little by little, I felt some strength returning.
Even so, the exhaustion remained overwhelming. My thoughts were still scattered, and I couldn't even remember when I had learned that spell. I only knew that it strengthened the caster's body.
Carefully, I shifted Hermione onto the bed, then turned and tried to stand.
The key word being "tried."
Even with the reinforcement spell, my limbs trembled like noodles at the slightest effort.
Even so, I kept trying, and after several seconds of struggling, I finally managed to sit on the edge of the bed.
I glanced at the chair beside it. My jacket was still where I'd left it.
I extended a hand as though pulling something towards me. The next second, my pocket watch shot out from one of its pockets.
Once it was in my hand, I checked the time.
7:46 AM
It's still early, but I'm certain Bloom will notice I never came back last night, that I didn't sleep beside her, and that I didn't even wake her for our nightly flight.
Putting that aside, I turned my attention back to Hermione, still sleeping naked on the bed.
** Sigh **
Her body was a pitiful sight.
Her back was covered in scratches and claw marks, thin lines of dried blood tracing across her skin. Bruises from where I'd held her too tightly were beginning to show, accompanied by a constellation of bite marks and hickeys scattered over her body.
Looking more closely, I could also make out the now-dull remnants of our last sensory outburst: faint stains of semen on her abdomen, which I shared as well.
Seeing her like this filled me with guilt and pity.
But there was something else.
A disturbing feeling—one that found the sight of her condition thrilling and exciting.
I shook my head, trying to drive those thoughts away. The reinforcement spell wouldn't last much longer, and I felt far too weak.
Terribly weak.
I'd never felt so pathetic in my entire life.
Nor could I ask Bloom for help; I didn't want her to see me like this.
Moments like these remind me just how wonderful it is to be a wizard. Even though my body feels awful, I can still use magic.
I flicked my hand lightly and cast the quick-cleaning spell on myself. Then, with unsteady steps, I dragged myself over to the chair to retrieve my clothes and try to get dressed.
While I was pulling on my trousers, I heard a bit of movement, followed by approaching footsteps.
Pomfrey: "Hermione? Are you awake?"
Madam Pomfrey's voice made me freeze.
This wasn't good.
She had almost certainly come to check on Hermione, and if she didn't answer, she'd probably come in to make sure everything was alright and that she'd had a restful night.
I quickly pulled my wand from the case lying on the floor beside my clothes and gave it a flick, allowing the barrier to let sound pass through. Then I proceeded to alter my vocal cords.
It had been a few months since I'd last practised my Metamorphmagus abilities, but it shouldn't be too difficult.
"G-Good morning, Madam Pomfrey."
My voice came out slightly hoarse, not only because my throat was dry, but because I'd never tried imitating Hermione before.
Even so, I managed to match her voice.
Pomfrey: "Oh, you're awake. Are you feeling alright? Your voice sounds a little hoarse."
Pomfrey didn't come in immediately. She could tell that a barrier had been erected around the 'room'.
"Yes. *Ahem* My throat was just a little dry."
As I cleared my throat, I managed to fine-tune my voice until it sounded exactly like Hermione's.
One of the advantages of having an eidetic memory.
I don't need to hear her in order to have a reference when adjusting my voice.
It would make for quite an amusing sight if someone could see me speaking in Hermione's voice right now.
Pomfrey: "Oh, I see. Did you put up this barrier? I don't remember seeing it last night."
"Yes. I don't want anyone seeing me like this, and considering how quickly rumours spread around Hogwarts, I'd rather not take the risk."
Given how gossipy people at Hogwarts were, my explanation sounded perfectly plausible, even if there weren't that many students around at the moment.
Pomfrey: "I understand. Well, since you're feeling alright, I'll come back later to check your condition and continue the treatment."
"I understand."
Shortly afterwards, I heard Pomfrey walk away to tend to her other duties.
** Huff... huff... **
Once Pomfrey had left, I finally allowed myself to catch my breath.
Simply maintaining that conversation had been utterly exhausting.
I quickly finished getting dressed, then paused.
I listened carefully to the sounds outside, and once I was certain no one was around, I stepped out from behind the curtains while concealing myself beneath an illusion.
I headed straight for the potion cabinet.
Pomfrey seemed to be checking on the petrified students, so she was some distance away.
Let's see... Skele-Gro, Calming Draught, Sleeping Draught, antidote... antidote... Murtlap Essence... Ah, here it is.
Invigoration Potion.
I took it from the cabinet and poured its contents into a small glass I picked up from a nearby shelf.
** Gulp **
It didn't smell particularly pleasant, but that hardly mattered right now.
After drinking it in one go, I felt renewed vigour surge through my body, restoring much of my strength.
I could drink more, but it wouldn't be wise to overuse the potion, especially while I was in this state.
I returned to Hermione's 'room'.
I don't think she'll wake up anytime soon.
I can barely move, and I'm physically much stronger than she is, so she'll probably need far more rest before she recovers.
Now I need to treat her injuries.
I could look for a potion in the infirmary, but it wouldn't be particularly gentle on her body in its current condition.
On the other hand, in this case—and perhaps only for me—the poison itself can be the cure.
I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath as I closed my eyes and focused.
It had been a while since the last time, and this was perhaps the ability I'd neglected the most.
After a few seconds of concentration, I felt the connection once again.
It shouldn't have taken me so long to reach it, but I was simply out of practice, so it was inevitable.
At least controlling it wasn't a problem.
Once I had regained control, I opened my eyes.
A faint purple glow now surrounded my hands.
I watched as it slowly spread across my body, giving the impression of outlining my silhouette like a visible aura.
Then I turned my attention back to Hermione, who was still asleep beside me, and gently ran my hands over her skin, applying slight pressure to certain wounds while infusing them with the faint aura flowing through my body.
I started with her feet, then moved up her legs and thighs, continuing across her abdomen before reaching her chest and neck, leaving the most sensitive areas for last.
** Mmm~ **
Although Hermione remained asleep, her body reacted instinctively to my touch. She let out a soft moan and squirmed slightly.
The wounds touched by my aura gradually faded away, while the aura itself became just a little stronger.
Each time I infused the purple aura into Hermione's body, it almost completely disappeared, but when it returned to me, it was ever so slightly denser.
When I reached her back, I slowed down and became even more careful than before.
Slowly, my fingers traced the scratches and cuts covering her skin.
Of her entire body, her back and neck had suffered the worst injuries.
Despite all my care, I could still feel Hermione's body trembling ever so slightly whenever my fingers passed over her wounds. Even in her sleep, her expression tightened in pain, causing my own brow to furrow as well.
I stopped and withdrew my hands.
Instead, I leaned closer.
My mouth.
From my observations, I'd realised that, besides my fangs, my saliva possessed a certain magical property. It could soothe or stimulate—or, in the current situation, act as an analgesic.
Carefully, I placed light, damp kisses upon her skin, occasionally letting my tongue brush across it as I covered the remaining wounded areas.
The effect was immediate and unmistakable.
Her trembling vanished, and in its place, the cat tail I'd ignored until now seemed to awaken, swaying gently from side to side while a soft purr escaped the lips of the still-sleeping Hermione.
I continued placing gentle kisses on her skin while my hands travelled over her body, her wounds gradually disappearing.
Her tail, on the other hand, grew more and more animated, swaying happily from side to side as though enjoying the caresses.
At one point, I even had to catch it when it nearly smacked me in the face and started getting in the way of my work.
The purple energy I was using was, in essence, the innate magic of my Celestial Fox bloodline.
Like my human magic, it grew stronger with age, but its development followed a different path.
Age was only one part of it; its true growth stemmed from the intimate bond shared with a partner.
Last night, I had barely been aware of myself, so I never consciously made use of it.
Now, however, as I moved my hands across Hermione's body, healing her injuries, I could feel it responding to every one of my actions, growing stronger little by little.
It was peculiar magic.
If I had to describe it, I'd say it possessed a nature of its own, almost capricious.
Most of the time, it behaved with an almost seductive gentleness, yet all it took was the right stimulus for it to reveal an entirely wild side, transforming its behaviour completely.
Unlike my human magic, which was practically colourless and devoid of attributes, this magic seemed to possess a very distinct identity.
Its applications weren't all that different from those of ordinary magic, though it excelled particularly in certain areas.
I understood its nature in broad terms thanks to my own bloodline, but I had explored very little of what it was truly capable of.
I was only just beginning to develop it, so there was still much left to discover.
In any case, that was something for another time.
By the time I finished tending to her body, all of her injuries had disappeared.
Only a few hickeys and bite marks remained visible on her skin.
A part of me resisted erasing even those.
On the contrary...
I wanted to keep seeing them there, marking her as mine.
Healing her with my purple energy hadn't merely improved her previously exhausted physical condition.
It had also helped me recover.
Now that her body was healthy again, I took a towel from my bag and conjured some water into a bowl I also happened to be carrying.
Then, using my magic, I warmed the water until it was pleasantly lukewarm before soaking the towel in it.
After wringing it out, I carefully began wiping the dirt from Hermione's body.
I could have used magic for that as well, such as the quick-cleaning spell, but it didn't feel appropriate.
I...
I had hurt her.
I'd left her in that state.
Perhaps it hadn't entirely been me.
Perhaps it hadn't been completely my fault.
But it had been these very hands that had done it.
Not to just anyone.
To her.
To the one who trusted me.
After several minutes, I had cleaned her body completely.
There was now almost no trace left of what had happened.
Setting the towel and bowl aside, my gaze fell upon the torn pieces of cloth that had once been a pair of pyjamas.
** Sigh **
"Reparo..."
** Swish **
Taking the one-piece white pyjamas, now perfectly restored, I approached Hermione and, without moving her more than necessary, helped her sit up beside me so I could dress her.
Once I was finished, I gently laid her back down on the bed.
Then I lay down beside her as well, drawing her into my arms and letting her rest her head against my chest.
The question now is...
What the hell happened?
I feel like I'm becoming far too emo with everything that's been happening lately, but people don't just go through life and suddenly lose control of themselves and attack someone, do they?
Now that I think about it, I genuinely don't remember ever learning a spell called Reinforcement.
I've never studied any branch of magic that directly enhances the body.
Hell, I didn't even know such a spell existed, let alone the magical theory behind it.
The spell simply came out on its own, as though it were one of the many spells I use on a daily basis.
Without realising it, I'd been absentmindedly playing with Hermione's tail for quite some time.
The tip lazily curled itself around one of my fingers while I continued sorting through my thoughts.
Do tails always possess something akin to a will of their own?
Although I have complete control over mine, and they don't wag embarrassingly whenever I'm happy or anything of the sort, they still maintain a sort of natural dance while at rest. They can also move perfectly in unison or independently, following my wishes.
The fact that they obeyed my will and ignored whatever had been trying to control my body last night was clear proof of that.
Then again, perhaps it was simply because of the bloodline they belonged to. Maybe they refused to be controlled and were capable of resisting on their own.
But getting back to the point.
What happened today is deeply concerning.
It's not as though I don't have a few theories about the cause...
But aside from the possible culprit, I don't know anything for certain, and something like this must never happen again.
On the other hand...
This pendant was able to help me.
Investigating its origin and how it works will become one of my priorities.
...
** Hmm, uhh **
My thoughts came to an end when I heard a sleepy little murmur and felt Hermione, who had been resting against my chest, begin to stir.
A moment later, she slowly opened her eyes, still drowsy.
At first, she looked slightly disoriented. She shifted against me while clinging to my body, as though she were simply stretching before getting up.
That didn't last long.
Clarity gradually returned to her eyes, and as she became aware of the warmth between us, she turned her head to look at me.
For several seconds, we simply looked at each other.
There was nothing unusual in her eyes.
She smiled faintly as she greeted me.
Hermione: "Good morning."
Or at least, that's what she believed she was doing.
The reality was very different.
I watched doubt give way to confusion.
Then came recollection.
Surprise.
Horror.
Anger.
Sadness.
Incomprehension.
And finally...
A faint sense of expectation mixed with fear.
Even if I weren't as perceptive as I am—or unable to see her emotions—her tense, nervous smile wouldn't have fooled anyone.
Hermione: "I—"
She tried to act as though everything were normal and even attempted to get up, but I didn't allow it, keeping her close instead.
I wasn't overly forceful.
After all, everything I'd done up to that point had been intended to let her wake up as peacefully as possible.
"I'm sorry."
Everything that had happened had been beyond my control.
But that didn't change the fact that I was still guilty.
I wasn't afraid to apologise.
Nor did I begin with a flood of words that might or might not accomplish anything.
First, I needed to know where she stood.
Was she even willing to listen to me?
Hermione simply buried her face against my chest and remained silent.
A few moments later, however, I felt a faint dampness soaking into my shirt.
Feeling her tears instead of hearing her screams suggested there might still be some hope of salvaging the situation.
So I wrapped my arms around her a little tighter in an attempt to comfort her...
Even if I was the one who had caused her pain.
I carefully considered how to handle such a delicate situation.
I could give her time, try to ease things over, then simply step away and allow her to process everything that had happened.
It wasn't a bad approach.
Perhaps it was even the most common one.
But it wouldn't work for me.
Instead, it struck me as both dangerous and inefficient.
Why leave things to chance?
Especially when I had the power to influence the outcome.
As long as there was still an opportunity, there was no reason to hesitate.
I needed to be proactive.
A direct and straightforward approach would be the most effective, even if it was clearly difficult under the circumstances...
Unless I first created a better environment.
A clear idea had already formed in my mind.
If I wanted to resolve this, it was the most practical method.
"Hermione, look at me."
She didn't move.
She kept her face buried against my chest, but I didn't force her.
I simply waited.
Patiently.
After several seconds, she finally lifted her head and met my gaze.
Her eyes were still glistening with tears.
"Do you hate me?" I asked quietly.
Hermione lowered her eyes for a moment.
Then she looked back at me and simply shook her head.
A minimal answer.
Understandable.
Somewhat encouraging, all things considered.
But not enough, given that she still refused to speak.
I couldn't force her.
And silence wasn't a solution either.
If things continued like this, sooner or later she'd begin filling in the gaps on her own, drawing her own conclusions about what had happened.
If she reached the right conclusion, then perhaps everything would be fine. But considering everything, that seemed unlikely—perhaps even disastrous.
If she was going to reach a conclusion, then at the very least, it should be one based on the truth.
Or at least...
The little truth that I myself knew.
'Legilimens.'
One of my tails held my wand, aiming it at Hermione as I cast the spell from an angle outside her field of vision.
I could erase her memory.
After all, I'd already removed every physical trace of what had happened, and things hadn't gone so far that there was no turning back.
I could even replace the memory with a far happier one.
Instead of what had happened last night, we could simply have spent the evening talking until we both fell asleep on the bed.
That could very well have been what had really happened.
But...
Was that something I would do?
Was that the kind of person I was?
No.
It wasn't something I wanted to erase.
I only used the spell to establish a genuine connection with Hermione's mind.
There are things that are simply too difficult to express with words.
But thoughts...
Thoughts are different.
Within our own minds, moderation and restraint rarely exist, even against our own will.
Even so, entering another person's mind was never as simple as opening a book.
Every mind was different.
Most took the form of labyrinths, puzzles, or entirely abstract realities that served both as manifestations of their owner's mental state and as natural defences against any intruder.
Deciphering that chaos was precisely what made Legilimency one of the most complex branches of magic.
Only true masters could navigate such a puzzle with ease.
I was nowhere near that level.
Like most Legilimens, I relied on trial and error, interpreting the mind's reactions until I found what I was looking for.
Rather than using a simple mental probe, I projected my own consciousness directly into another person's mind.
It was a far more dangerous method, but also the only one I was truly familiar with.
Fortunately, I had no need to explore her entire mind.
I wasn't seeking her memories.
Nor was I interested in her surface thoughts.
I was searching for Hermione herself.
Her innermost self.
Her consciousness...
Call it whatever you like.
Finding her was another matter, though at least I knew where to look.
After all, that was the deepest part of the mind.
Those who had mastered Occlumency could conceal memories, erect mental defences, or even prepare countermeasures against intruders.
Hermione, on the other hand, possessed no such protections.
Even so, entering another person's mind was always dangerous.
Inner worlds could contain things that far surpassed the imagination, especially when they belonged to someone suffering from severe mental instability.
Horrors.
Secrets.
Or realities capable of consuming anyone who ventured too deeply.
The very instant I finished casting the spell within my mind, I felt my consciousness being pulled away at tremendous speed.
One moment, I was looking at Hermione.
The next...
I found myself standing in a world unlike anything I'd ever known.
The world before me was beyond anything that could be described with mere words.
Every rational, scientific, or even magical law could exist...
Or not.
Saying that the sky was the ground and the ground the sky would have been a gross understatement.
A single step to the right might take you to the left, while two different places could, at the same time, be exactly the same.
After passing through countless layers of chaotic realities that seemed utterly devoid of meaning, I finally reached my destination.
As I made my way through them, I used the influence of my purple energy to soothe every trace of Hermione's unrest I encountered along the way.
The place I arrived at was the Hogwarts library, one of the locations where Hermione spent most of her time.
She was sitting alone in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest.
I walked over, sat down beside her, and silently looked around for a few moments.
I could sense that this version of her, though just as affected, was considerably calmer.
My actions during the journey had clearly worked.
In a way, the sensation was rather strange.
Within this place, I could no longer see the clouds of emotion.
Yet I could still feel them.
The discrepancy felt unfamiliar.
I began to speak in a calm, even tone.
"I'm deeply sorry for what happened.
Last night was completely beyond my control and beyond anything I could have anticipated.
Even so, I know that doesn't change what happened...
Or what I did to you.
But I wanted you to know that.
And...
What I told you last night wasn't a lie.
I really do like you.
The way you look now doesn't change that.
Even so...
And even against my own will...
I hated it just as much as I enjoyed it."
A concise confession.
Then silence settled between us, leaving only quiet reflection.
Until...
"I don't hate you..."
She finally murmured, barely above a whisper, lifting her gaze ever so slightly from between her knees.
I'd heard her perfectly.
Even so, I wanted her to say it clearly.
Hermione: "I said I don't hate you!"—she finally exclaimed, lifting her head completely from its refuge—"I was just... scared."
"What did you say?"
I'd heard her perfectly.
Even so, I wanted her to say it clearly.
Hermione: "I said I don't hate you!" she finally exclaimed, lifting her head completely from its refuge. "I was just... scared."
"You weren't acting like yourself. You were more like a beast. Your eyes no longer held that calmness you're always carrying around, or that playful way you look at me. There was only savagery. You looked at me as though I were prey."
There was agitation in her voice, but it went no further than a slight rise in volume, the echo gradually fading among the library's endless bookshelves.
I remained silent for a few moments.
It was a good start.
.-. End Pov .-.
.-. Pov Hermione .-.
Within this mental realm, her form, though fully conscious, remained more isolated from the complexities raging throughout the rest of her mind.
But that didn't change what she'd experienced.
There was no deep hatred. Only a whirlwind of complicated emotions.
Waking up with such a disturbing memory... Feeling betrayed... And at the same time... Confused.
None of it made sense.
She had been afraid...
Desperate...
Powerless...
Standing at the edge of a precipice while a beast tried to devour her.
And yet... That wasn't the whole problem.
There was something more.
The words "completely beyond my control" took on greater meaning as she remembered.
His eyes.
His voice.
It wasn't him. Those eyes would never look at her that way. That unfamiliar voice would never leave his lips.
Then there was that crushing, suffocating presence that had enveloped her and left her trapped.
It seemed impossible to reconcile the two.
But...There had been other details.
His hands had constantly tensed and relaxed, as though he were struggling against himself. The veins in his arms had bulged with the effort. Even so, whenever his hands touched her, they had remained surprisingly gentle most of the time.
Even through the savage haze reflected in his eyes, she had still been able to sense that almost obsessive care for every one of her reactions.
A demon and a man had been struggling against each other.
The man hadn't been winning. But neither had he surrendered.
He had been holding himself back.
…
Even so...
I enjoyed it.
Amidst the savagery and the pain... There had been something sweet. Something pleasurable.
The influence I'd never known before had simply been overwhelming. As exhilarating as it was terrifying.
Subjugating her consciousness... Her reality... Reducing everything to nothing but sensations.
The overwhelming stimuli. The warmth that had spread through her. Every contraction. Every shiver.
Accompanied first by roughness... And then by tenderness.
So many things.
They had swallowed nearly all of her memories of the night. And what little remained... Sent faint tremors through her very being.
Fear...
Or...
Something else?
.-. End Pov .-.
.-. Pov Extimum .-.
Hearing the tone of her voice, I could tell she was much calmer, though what had happened still unsettled her somewhat. I took advantage of those moments when she revealed her emotions to ease those feelings within her subconscious
It might have seemed as though I was manipulating her, but that wasn't the case. I merely wanted what had happened to be less traumatic and easier for her to bear. I wasn't trying to alter the facts or her opinion of them.
Hermione: "Did we... do it?"
"What do you mean?"
Her question caught me slightly off guard. I hadn't expected her to ask that, but I deliberately feigned ignorance.
Hermione: "You know..."
"I can't know unless you're specific. A lot of things happened, I—"
Hermione: "Don't say it! Ahem I mean... did you and I h-have... ugh, did we have sex?" Hermione hesitated for quite a while, but when she realised I genuinely wasn't following, she finally forced herself to say it, her face burning bright red.
"Oh... No, we didn't. I suppose that'll have to wait for another opportunity—one where we're both much more clear-headed and willing."
Hermione: "Y-Yes... another time. Wait, what? No, no." She murmured distractedly before suddenly realising what she'd just said. Her face flushed even deeper as she hurriedly shook her head.
The tension in Hermione visibly eased after hearing my answer. She didn't want her first time to happen like that, much less for her not even to remember it properly.
"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you?"
Hermione: "Hmph. I didn't say anything. You're imagining things."
"Good. I'm glad you're feeling better," I said as I got to my feet.
Hermione: "Where are you going?"
"Well, isn't it about time we went back?"
Hermione: "Well... yes, but... could you stay a little longer? You don't have to do anything. Just keep me company."
"All right. I'll stay for as long as you want."
...
.-.
I remained by her side for what felt like an indeterminate amount of time.
Time wasn't easy to measure when you were inside a reality that functioned differently. What felt like years within someone's mind could amount to only a few seconds outside. Then again, the opposite could also happen.
At first, Hermione didn't say much, but as time passed she began talking about all sorts of things. She seemed to be processing everything in her own way. Meanwhile, I stayed with her and listened attentively the entire time, enjoying the chance to see and learn about the parts of her she normally wasn't willing to show or express.
When I finally left, I had the strange sensation of returning from somewhere unimaginably distant. Yet the moment I fully regained awareness of the outside world, I instinctively knew how much time had passed.
Only a few seconds. Not even half a minute.
I'd expected to lose all sense of time completely, but strangely enough, that wasn't what happened.
I met Hermione's gaze once more. She remained still for a moment before slowly blinking, taking in everything she had just experienced.
Hermione: "I didn't know you could do that."
Extimum: "A little mystery always adds a bit of extra charm to things. But if you're truly interested, you can take your time trying to figure it out."
Hermione: "I see..." she replied, her eyes drifting toward my head and then my waist.
"You didn't have... Never mind. Maybe I just imagined it."
Harry: "Hermione? Are you awake?"
Ron: "Just go in. You know what she's like. There's no way she'd still be asleep at this hour."
Harry: "All right... Ugh, I can't get through."
Ron: "What? Let me try. Ugh, I really can't. It's... like there's a barrier."
Harry: "Maybe if we push together, we can get through. Let's try. On three. One... two... three!"
Harry and Ron charged at the barrier together, but by then I had already deactivated it. They passed straight through the curtains without any resistance and tumbled onto the floor on the other side.
Pomfrey: "You two! What do you think you're doing? All you had to do was ask permission to come through the barrier." Pomfrey shouted from a distance after seeing them fall to the floor as they crossed it.
Harry: "Hehe, sorry. We didn't know."
Ron: "Oh, Extimum, you were already here?"
Ron was the first to look inside. We had already moved apart and were now sitting side by side on the bed.
Pomfrey: "Hm? How strange. I think I'm a bit absent-minded today. I didn't see you come in, Extimum." Pomfrey said, giving us a mildly suspicious look.
- She was always extremely attentive to anyone entering the Hospital Wing, and almost no one managed to get inside without her noticing. However, remembering that Extimum didn't seem like a bad boy, she assumed he had simply come in while she was momentarily distracted. -
Although I managed to remain calm, Hermione blushed a little when she noticed Pomfrey's slightly suspicious gaze resting on us.
Pomfrey: "My, you're awfully flushed. Perhaps you're still suffering from a few side effects? Very well, you two, wait outside. I need to examine Miss Granger first, and then you may speak with her."
Ron: "Eh? Then why does Extimum get to stay?"
Pomfrey: "Extimum is studying healing under my supervision, and since Miss Granger has given him permission to be here, I assume she doesn't mind him being present during the more routine parts of the examination."
Harry: "Come on, Ron. It won't take long."
Ron: "Fine..."
.
I left the Hospital Wing shortly afterwards. Madame Pomfrey hadn't found anything abnormal with Hermione, so she assumed her blushing was nothing out of the ordinary. However, after applying the ointment meant to remove the fur still covering her body, she was surprised when most of it fell away almost immediately.
She couldn't understand why the treatment had been so much more effective today. On the other hand, it wasn't bad news. Quite the opposite. She informed Hermione that the time she would have to remain in the Hospital Wing had been reduced by at least a week. Her ears and tail still needed to be dealt with.
When Madame Pomfrey asked Hermione whether she had done anything during the night that might explain her rapid recovery, Hermione simply answered no while keeping her head lowered, her face bright red.
Naturally, I was only present for part of Pomfrey's examination, and I still had to wait outside when she applied the ointment to Hermione. Even so, I could hear her perfectly clearly from outside.
One thing I noticed was that, unlike mine, Hermione's ears and tail really did react to her emotions. They drooped whenever she felt embarrassed or sad, while they perked up and her tail swayed happily whenever the opposite was true. I didn't mention it because she already seemed embarrassed enough, and because she appeared to have noticed it herself.
On the other hand, there was a slight tic she displayed every so often: she would let out a tiny "meow" whenever she spoke particularly long sentences. It was something she seemed to have tried to suppress before, and it hadn't been present in her mental image.
.
After leaving the Hospital Wing, I made my way to Ravenclaw Tower. This time there were three or four students in the common room. I paid them little attention and headed straight for my dormitory.
Once inside, I saw Bloom sleeping soundly on my pillow; however...
"What a curious occasion for you to finally decide to wake up early, don't you think? Stop pretending. I know you're awake."
She was awake. I didn't even need to rely on our bond to know it. It might sound strange, but when you have an eidetic memory and heightened senses, you begin to notice things no normal person would, such as the sound of someone's breathing and heartbeat.
Naturally, that's only because I've paid attention to them when I wasn't doing anything in particular. Otherwise, I wouldn't know just by listening.
I've been sleeping beside Bloom for several months now, and these are things I quite literally can't ignore. Nor can I simply decide what I do or don't want to hear all the time. Even if I can control my senses, I'm not a machine with an on-and-off switch, so every now and then I notice things I had absolutely no intention of paying attention to.
That being said, although Bloom is quite good at hiding it, there's still a slight difference in the speed and rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat when she's asleep compared to when she's awake. Of course, she could also be having a nightmare or an especially vivid dream, but something simply doesn't feel natural.
"I suppose, then, I'll just cast a quick-cleaning on you. After all, you're asleep. Velox—"
Bloom: "Wait, wait, wait, I'm awake, all right? Don't cast anything on me." Bloom shot up from the pillow and floated in front of me.
"Hmph. Then stop pretending. That won't work on me." My tone dropped into something quieter and more dangerous. "Unless, of course, you had other intentions."
Bloom: "Uh... no... I was worried about you. Yes, that's it. I woke up and you weren't in bed. You didn't even wake me up last night. Besides... you feel a little different."
"Different how?"
It seemed she had indeed had other intentions. Setting that aside, however, her last words caught my attention.
Bloom: "Hmm, I can't quite put my finger on it. It's just something I can feel. Before, you were like a calm sea waiting patiently. Now you're more like a sea full of lurking monsters waiting for their prey. The calmness is still there, but now there's a ferocity beneath it."
"That's a rather peculiar way of putting it, but you've expressed the idea well. I have a few thoughts about it, but I'll leave them for later. Right now... I just want to sleep." I said as I collapsed straight onto the bed. Even though I was no longer physically exhausted, the same couldn't be said for my mind. It felt as though I hadn't slept at all the previous night and had instead remained awake the entire time.
--End Pov--.
Bloom: "Sleep? You? Hey, wait, you still haven't told me what happened. Extimum! Extimum!... Sigh... Fine, let's go back to sleep."
Bloom tried to find out what had happened, but he had already fallen asleep, so she reluctantly gave up and, much to her own displeasure, lay down beside him and went back to sleep.
Bloom hadn't actually had a good night. Around the same time Extimum lost consciousness, she had been plagued by rather dark dreams in which both of them were present. She woke up at around four in the morning with dark circles under her eyes and a light sheen of sweat covering her body.
Because of that, she had spent the entire morning trying to fall back asleep while worrying that her dreams might have been real. So, when she finally saw him return safe and sound, she felt immensely relieved.
.
--Pov Bloom--.
Darkness and cold. That's all I remember.
There was no time, no thought, no sensation, and yet somehow I was aware of it. I don't know how long I remained there, lost and numb, but at some point the light returned, the cold faded away, and I... came back to myself?
And yet, everything felt so strange. So different.
Everything had changed.
vale continuemos
Everything had changed.
When I first awoke from my long hibernation, I was utterly disoriented. I couldn't remember who I was, what I had been doing, or even where I was. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
There was only him.
A young man whose appearance was remarkably striking, even among my few memories—which were hardly memories at all, merely scattered images. It wasn't as though I had many at the time, but the overall impression born from my subconscious intuition already said a great deal.
His name was Extimum Izorim.
His surname felt somewhat familiar, yet even now I can't remember much about it.
At first, I thought he was human. He looked like one, smelled like one, and appeared to be one. Yet his body conveyed a very different sensation to me, one that I initially ignored. Later, he showed me his true form, and only then did I realise he truly wasn't human. Well, in a way he was; he was a hybrid. But there was something more.
The transformation he revealed was genuinely astonishing. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. I'm sure I'd seen similar things, but nothing quite like him. What surprised me wasn't merely how perfectly the essence of his true form had been concealed, but the fact that the other feeling I sensed from him wasn't that at all.
That was... quite strange, to say the least.
I mentioned it to him later, but he didn't seem surprised. Then again, he didn't seem to know anything about it either.
Our first meeting was rather confusing because, from that very first moment, we were already connected. I wasn't sure what he'd done back then, but I reached my own conclusions once some of my memories began to return.
Contrary to what others might think, I wasn't all that angry. I could understand his reasons; it would be difficult to place your trust in something completely unknown. There was also the fact that he had been the one to pull me out of the darkness, the cold, from a slumber that might have lasted forever.
That alone was enough to keep me from losing my mind over it, but it wasn't the only reason. During the time when I was at my most vulnerable, he cared for me as though I were someone truly precious to him. He helped me understand my situation, gave me all the support I needed at a time when even my own name was a complete mystery, and treated me with exceptional care.
Nor did he take advantage of the situation, give me orders, or force me to do anything. Even if I had been aware back then that we were bound by a contract, I still wouldn't have thought he was truly using me because of the way he treated me.
As fragments of my memories gradually returned, I came to understand my situation a little better. I realised that what bound us together wasn't mere chance, but an ancient magical contract. Yet what I felt from him wasn't false; the way he treated me was genuine. Our bond confirmed it, and even without it, I was good at judging people. I could tell.
Even if what first led him to me had been nothing more than a whim, bringing me back from the boundary between life and death and forging a bond with me wasn't done merely to satisfy his curiosity.
There was a genuine expectation behind it.
The world of today is vastly different from the one I came from. The magical world seems stagnant, clinging to the past instead of moving forward. There are a few new things that could at least be considered the product of time passing, but at best they are only remnants of the grandeur and glory of the ancient magical world. The true magical world was nowhere near as limited, nor nearly as closed off.
On the bright side, today's world is relatively more peaceful, but magical society is in decline.
We live in a sorrowful imitation of the ancient magical cities. The great magical structures and towering spires have vanished, the air is polluted, and the land is dying. Although some remarkable magical inventions still endure and there are places worthy of admiration, for the most part even non-magical beings have built cities grander than ours.
I don't know what happened during the time I was gone, but there was a tremendous loss and an enormous regression within the magical world—or at least within the common magical world.
When I visited one of Extimum's homes, I caught another glimpse of that ancient glory: clean air overflowing with magic, breathtaking landscapes, plants singing joyful melodies as their leaves swayed with vibrant life, magical creatures brimming with vigorous magic, and magnificent buildings that seemed to breathe magic themselves.
Structures don't have to be ostentatious to be magical; they simply need that special touch, that essence only magic can bestow, displaying the wonders of such extraordinary power.
From that, I concluded that whatever had happened hadn't affected everyone, and that the bleak, limited world I now saw still concealed fragments of its former glory somewhere, protected behind the wands of great witches and wizards.
While staying with Extimum, I gradually came to know both him and the modern world better.
He can be rather difficult to understand at times. He always faces life with remarkable composure, and despite his exceptional intelligence, he seems to struggle to properly understand emotions, leaving him with an unusual sort of common sense that causes him to ignore certain actions or behaviours most people would consider abnormal.
The key word here is "ignore", because in a way, he seems to know exactly what he's doing and understand its implications, yet simply chooses to ignore them. It shows in little things, like feeling no embarrassment whatsoever about walking around naked or sleeping beside me as though we were a couple.
Suffice it to say, the first time I saw him, I was naked.
It wasn't difficult to realise he was the one who had taken my clothes off, since there had been no one else there at the time. Even so, he didn't appear the least bit affected, behaving with complete indifference as he looked at my naked body.
At other times, I've seen him watch people interacting as though he were attending an educational lecture. I'm not entirely sure what it is he can see, but I can sense it through the bond between us.
It's as though coloured clouds surround people, and he's able to perceive certain colours around them. Then he analyses those colours together with their behaviour and surface thoughts before reaching a conclusion about how he should act.
He's like a super magical golem learning how humans behave, which is as fascinating as it is unsettling.
A little while later, I discovered the reason why.
The reason was his family and his home.
I've seen it in his eyes. From his perspective, things don't seem all that bad; he simply accepts them as facts, even if he occasionally questions those very same facts.
The mansion where he lives is, according to him, a grand and beautiful estate. In fact, when I first saw it, I shared that opinion. But that isn't the truth.
The mansion is a terrifying place.
I don't think I could have lived there myself if it hadn't been for him.
Rather than a manor, it feels more like an enormous haunted prison.
That unsettling silence... it seems to seep into every corner.
Long, intersecting corridors that appear to stretch on forever, leading to a myriad of rooms of every kind. Rooms he seems to know like the back of his hand.
And... the overwhelming loneliness.
During my first few days there, I saw only two other beings besides ourselves.
One was a creature Extimum called a "house-elf," quite a strange one in my opinion. I don't see what they have in common with elves; even their long ears could belong to countless other creatures.
There was also a shadow shapeshifter. However, it only appeared from time to time, and while it was quite entertaining, a shadow shapeshifter doesn't truly speak. It communicates through an ability similar to telepathy, one that would now fall under the field of Legilimency.
Other than that, the mansion was lonely. Even the castles of ancient undead creatures or beings with malevolent inclinations never seemed so lifeless and gloomy.
Then there was his mother.
She didn't seem particularly remarkable. She was a powerful witch, that much was certain. She also possessed a strange aura around her, something similar to Extimum's, though of an entirely different nature. The oddest thing was that she had everything one would expect of a witch, yet nothing one would expect of a mother.
I had never seen a mother so cold towards her own son. Her behaviour was genuine; there wasn't the slightest trace of concern or affection when she saw Extimum again after such a long separation.
Even darker than she was her husband, Extimum's father.
Besides his appearance, that man possessed overwhelming power and a terrifying aura. It was like standing before a demon wearing an expressionless mask. Simply being in front of him was enough to make every hair on my body stand on end and my palms begin to sweat.
Judging from the fragments of my memories that have returned, I've known some truly terrifying beings, but the feeling that came from him was something completely different. Indescribable. Inhuman. That was it—something inhuman. Even so, he carried the same underlying feeling I sensed from his wife, though in his case it manifested differently.
The most frustrating part of all is that I find that feeling strangely familiar, yet I simply can't remember what it is
A little while later, I discovered the reason why.
The reason was his family and his home.
I've seen it in his eyes. From his perspective, things don't seem all that bad; he simply accepts them as facts, even if he occasionally questions those very same facts.
The mansion where he lives is, according to him, a grand and beautiful estate. In fact, when I first saw it, I shared that opinion. But that isn't the truth.
The mansion is a terrifying place.
I don't think I could have lived there myself if it hadn't been for him.
Rather than a manor, it feels more like an enormous haunted prison.
That unsettling silence... it seems to seep into every corner.
Long, intersecting corridors that appear to stretch on forever, leading to a myriad of rooms of every kind. Rooms he seems to know like the back of his hand.
And... the overwhelming loneliness.
During my first few days there, I saw only two other beings besides ourselves.
One was a creature Extimum called a "house-elf," quite a strange one in my opinion. I don't see what they have in common with elves; even their long ears could belong to countless other creatures.
There was also a shadow shapeshifter. However, it only appeared from time to time, and while it was quite entertaining, a shadow shapeshifter doesn't truly speak. It communicates through an ability similar to telepathy, one that would now fall under the field of Legilimency.
Other than that, the mansion was lonely. Even the castles of ancient undead creatures or beings with malevolent inclinations never seemed so lifeless and gloomy.
Then there was his mother.
She didn't seem particularly remarkable. She was a powerful witch, that much was certain. She also possessed a strange aura around her, something similar to Extimum's, though of an entirely different nature. The oddest thing was that she had everything one would expect of a witch, yet nothing one would expect of a mother.
I had never seen a mother so cold towards her own son. Her behaviour was genuine; there wasn't the slightest trace of concern or affection when she saw Extimum again after such a long separation.
Even darker than she was her husband, Extimum's father.
Besides his appearance, that man possessed overwhelming power and a terrifying aura. It was like standing before a demon wearing an expressionless mask. Simply being in front of him was enough to make every hair on my body stand on end and my palms begin to sweat.
Judging from the fragments of my memories that have returned, I've known some truly terrifying beings, but the feeling that came from him was something completely different. Indescribable. Inhuman. That was it—something inhuman. Even so, he carried the same underlying feeling I sensed from his wife, though in his case it manifested differently.
The most frustrating part of all is that I find that feeling strangely familiar, yet I simply can't remember what it is.
continuemos
In a way, watching his life made me feel a little sympathy for him, but I never dared express it. I knew that wasn't what Extimum needed and, on the contrary, he might even have found it insulting. He was strong, and he had learned to live with it.
Observing this new world made me realise a truth I had overlooked until then because of everything that had happened before: now I was alone, completely alone.
My friends... my family... the people I knew... even my enemies had most likely vanished with the passage of time.
Perhaps I'm the last of my kind.
The fairies of today are... a joke?
I have no other way to put it.
They've lost their power, their intelligence. Even if they look and behave, to a certain extent, like fairies, they're nothing more than a sad imitation of what we once were.
It was a heartbreaking reality.
It wasn't that I was afraid. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd found myself in a completely new world, but in those situations I had never been alone, much less lost.
For a brief moment, I felt myself falling back into the darkness.
Panic and despair threatened to consume me once again, and just as I was about to lose myself... I felt it.
The bond. Our connection. His presence.
When I close my eyes to sleep, I can feel his warmth and the care he shows me. When a new day dawns and I find myself alone, facing reality, he's there, making sure I feel at ease.
Whenever I feel helpless because I can't understand this new world, I find his patience and calmness as he eases my insecurities and helps me make sense of it all.
He's cold and indifferent to most things, yet whenever I need him, he's there. I can never consciously notice it, but it's as though a part of his attention is always focused on me, making sure I'm all right.
He's difficult to understand, but I've come to understand him. The longer we spend together, the more clearly I can sense his emotions. His stoic face reveals nothing, yet I can feel his happiness; his brow never furrows, yet I can feel his anger; and his deep violet eyes seem to reflect no emotion at all, yet I can feel his sadness.
In a way, he's more sensitive than he lets on. His mind is mature, but his young and fragile heart remains closed off by the way he was raised to see the world.
Feeling all of this is nothing more than the quiet trust he's placed in me.
So, little by little, I grew accustomed to his care, his presence, his warmth during cold nights, and his companionship.
I shouldn't... I know.
But the precipice is far too tempting, far too sweet, and I don't know whether, when the time comes to embrace it, he'll truly be able to return my feelings.
I know how he feels about Hermione. It's not something he ever bothers to hide. Even so, all that does is make me stumble on my way towards that precipice, doing little to slow my steps.
I don't know... and I don't think about it.
But at the very least, I want to remain by his side and protect his heart.
--End Pov--
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