Hexes, Jinxes & Past Glimpses.

Chapter 8: Turmoil

She felt like falling, but not quite. Like she was placed above the Dead Sea, the water dangerous surrounding her, yet the salt elevating her. Keeping her from drowning.

From the moment her world turned dark, an eerie calmness found her.

It was not like her to feel calm. She later decided, she was probably numb instead. It was better from the agonising, excruciating pain she felt before, though. Now, her biggest fear seemed like a box she had ticked off her list; she didn't feel like death was that scary.

She kind of felt at peace.

Were these thoughts hers? Was she even experiencing this? Was she dead? Alive?

The coppery taste in her mouth long one, she felt absolute nothing. Tasted nothing.

She was nothing. Thin air.

Dark shadows loomed over her. Like her dreams. All of them, black, looming like dementors over her head. Except one.

A pale, iridescent aura. The only stroke of light.

Were her eyes open? What had even happened?

She had no idea.

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He panted, sweat trickling down his brow. He was flustered, bewildered and angry. With her draped around him, he locked himself into the Dungeons, running up the stairs, stopping only momentarily to grab a better hold of her and to mutter vanishing and cleansing charms on any blood dripping on the floor.

Everyone was still gone. In fact, they had probably just arrived to Hogsmeade.

He placed her at the emerald velvet couch of his room. Thank Merlin, he was living alone. He'd definately need dittany for her shoulder, although it would unquestionably leave scarring. Not even Phoenix tears could mend a wound from a Basilisk tooth flawlessly. He rummaged through his bag, trying to find and organise the potions that were neccessary.

What had gone wrong?

She was supposed to freeze when she saw the Basilisk; freeze and stand there, silent, ready to be devoured in seconds. What had gone so fucking wrong? So wrong that she was screaming her lungs out, actually fighting it?

And most importantly, what was going on in his fucking head that made him stop the Basilisk?

One more hit, and he'd have his first Horcrux. Yet he couldn't. Couldn't let her. Her screams were agonising, for the first time they made him feel cruel. A heavy feeling on his chest, a tightness in his throat and lungs. Her tries to fight back and her pleads for someone to find her scratched his brain and insides, a horrible feeling that made him sick. Forced him to cradle his head and sit on his bed.

Was he suddently weak?

How the fuck was it possible? The thought infuriated him a lot more than it should.

He was still Tom Riddle. Tom in the past had never showed any type of mercy, and he completelly and utterly still wanted to rule the Wizarding World.

Then, why the fuck had he done it?

When he'd seen her shoulder, he remembered he'd frozen. The Basilisk's venom was lethal, and could only be cured by two things. Phoenix tears, or his blood.

And he surely had not predicted he'd be saving her, so he had no Phoenix Tears.

He wasn't even sure if he'd hesitated. All were a blur in his mind.