Fraternizing With the Enemy

Chapter 5: Mixed Feelings

When they got back to the shop, Frimiare was waiting for them, fiddling with her wand, a long stick of hawthorn, watching the street for them. Sighting them, she waved, then returned to her wand-fiddling. As they neared they heard that she was muttering under her breath and running her fingers over the length of her wand in a pattern.

“What are you up to?” Fred asked.

She looked up at him, a bewildered look on her face. “These enchantments are child’s play, but there is an underlying spell of much complexity binding the others in place,” she explained.

“How can you tell?” Hermione asked in admiration.

“I’m not sure...I guess I just have a knack for these things,” Frimiare replied, smiling.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Hermione said.

Frimiare shrugged and continued with her muttering. She would turn in certain directions and say things like, “there?” but then shake her head and continue her analysis. Finally, after several minutes of this obvious frustration, she pointed her wand at a spot above and to the right of the door and said firmly, “Umbram mea revenias.” A ghostly light encompassed the shop and absorbed into the hawthorn wood in her hand. Frimiare smiled, pleased with her handiwork

“That’s it?” Ron asked bluntly. “It’s finished?”

The girl nodded. “Yes,” she answered. She turned to face the twins and added, “The enchantments are now yours to do with what you wish.” When no one did anything, she gestured to the door and said persuasively, “Well, go on.”

At this, Fred pulled out the tattered white envelope, reached inside and produced a tarnished silver skeleton-type key. He stepped forward and slid the thin metal into the lock; as he turned it the lock clicked open and the door creaked inward.

The floor of the shop was a bit dusty and the air was thick, almost suffocating. Hermione whispered something at her wand, causing a cool wind to blow through the shop. As the party stepped inside darkness enveloped them, but their eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, revealing several small oil lamps mounted on the walls and counters. With a flick of her wand, Ginny lit the two nearest lamps; Hermione likewise lit another two near the counter. Gasps echoed in the deserted room, reflecting off the ornately carved wooden wall panels. After the echoes faded, the panels seemed to whisper, almost as if the designs themselves spoke to the newcomers.

As the party journeyed further into the shop, the girls continued their spell casting, and all the while the whispers grew louder, as if reacting to the light.

“If walls could talk...” Fred joked.

“What stories they’d tell,” Frimiare whispered in response, earning an approving glance from the twin.

Upon further examination, they found that the shop didn’t go very far back, but had a large upstairs area, which George commented would be wonderful for excess storage. The walls were flat-paneled in a light wood, maybe pine or birch, and the floors were of a dark but complimentary linoleum. After observing the few rooms in the upper floor, the party returned downstairs. Through two small windows they saw that the sky was turning red and orange, signs of the sunset.

“I should get you back,” Frimiare commented, earning looks from everyone. “You’ll be expected to attend the feast, no?”

“Oh,” several muttered.

In but a moment they found themselves standing in front of the great wooden doors to the Great Hall. But...apparition inside the grounds was impossible...right? What magic did this girl have?

“There’s got to be more to this girl than she’s telling us,” George reasoned.

“Considering that, she hasn’t really told us anything,” Fred replied, shrugging. “All we know is she can supposedly do anything You-Know-Who can, and that’s only Arkinea’s word.”

“I hate this,” the other twin said, banging his fist on the table. “Sorry, Ron,” he added, noticing he had spilled his brother’s glass of pumpkin juice.

“I know, I know, but how else were we supposed to get started? We’re broke anyway...or we were.”

“The only reason we got that shop is because of the money Arkinea gave us, and we know even less about her. There have got to be strings attached. There’s no such thing as free money.”

“She wouldn’t—“ Harry began, but cut himself off.

He was beginning to feel the attraction weakening, but every time he felt it, it sent a pang through his scar...and he liked it. He wanted the pain, and in a way that made the attraction even stronger. Consciously thinking about this, he settled on telling the twins that they should be glad she was nice enough to give them the money in the first place; surprisingly, they agreed, saying she couldn’t be all bad if she was willing to help them out so generously.

Ron gulped down a mouthful of pumpkin juice and exclaimed, “How can you say that? She’s a—“ he lowered his voice. “She’s a Death Eater!”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Harry said. “Snape was a Death Eater and he turned out ok.”

“Ok?” Ron spluttered. “Ok! You call being an inherently evil slime ball ok?”

“If Dumbledore trusts him...” Harry shrugged.

“I guess Harry’s got a point,” Fred said. “I’d trust Dumbledore too, if I were him.”

“But think about it,” Ron replied. “All those people who betrayed You-Know-Who when he fell...well, they came back to him when he came back. How do you know it’s not the same with her?”

“Because Voldemort’s not gone,” Harry answered. “She’s either with him or not. There is no middle ground when it comes to him.” He paused, glancing around. “Look, if you want to know so badly, ask her yourself.”

He gestured toward the doors of the Great Hall as the girl in question walked into the dining hall. She wore robes this night, plain black with a Slytherin badge on one shoulder. She sat next to her sister-figure, who put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her momentarily. The girl shook her head slightly and muttered something, causing Frimiare to look in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

“I don’t know if now’s the best time, mate,” George said, taking a drink of juice.

As Arkinea took a seat by her companion, Frimiare gave her a one-armed hug.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“You look like you needed a hug,” her sister replied. “Will you tell me what’s wrong or do I have to guess?”

“Him,” Arkinea spat, looking in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

“Ah,” Frimiare replied, understanding. “The attraction. Is it affecting you as well?”

Her mistress nodded. “I hate him. I was bred to hate him. Yet...I do not know...what has happened to me?”

Frimiare sighed. “Perhaps if you nurtured—“

“Out of the question!”

“May I finish?” A reluctant nod. “Perhaps if you...responded to his feelings, toyed with him you might say, these feelings would go away.”

A thoughtful look crossed Arkinea’s face. “That might give me some satisfaction,” she replied slowly. “However, I do not want to encourage him.”

“I understand that,” her subject replied, standing up. “May I suggest that we speak of this elsewhere?”

Arkinea stood, replying, “You may. Let us go to the common room.”

They turned to leave the hall, Arkinea glancing back in Harry’s direction, to find him engaged in conversation with his friends. She smiled inwardly, then mentally scolded herself for thinking of him.

Upon arrival in the Slytherin dungeons, they made their way to the section of wall concealing the common room. Arkinea, the first to reach the wall, whispered the password, “Fidelius,” and the section of wall recessed into the surrounding stone and slid into the floor. As the girls stepped over the threshold, the stone stirred impatiently before sliding back into place.

As soon as she saw that no one was around, Frimiare blurted, “We have to find a way to break the attraction.”

Arkinea held up a had passively. “Please stay calm,” she replied. “It is not of vital importance that we solve this problem.”

“Not of vital—“ her sister spluttered. “It’s hurting you!”

The mistress smiled sadly. “But it was your blood spell that set things in motion,” she whispered. “Of course it hurts, to love a hated opponent.”

Frimiare’s eyes widened in shock. “My spell...did this?”

“Yes,” her sister answered. “I did not tell you because I feared you would react badly.”

“It was only supposed to make you stronger...I...this wasn’t supposed to happen,” the other stammered. “There must be something...there has to be a way to fix it.”

“Perhaps,” Arkinea mused. “For now I believe I should follow your suggestion and return the boy’s feelings.”

Frimiare followed her sister sadly to their room, to the black lace curtained window leading out to the balcony. Instead of parting the shimmering lace, Arkinea stood near it, nose almost touching, so close her breath disturbed the fragile fabric ever so slightly. She looked through the curtains at nothing, not seeing the quickly fading pink and orange of the sunset, not seeing the faint crescent moon and glittering stars, not seeing the blackness of night dotted with the lights of torches in the many windows of the castle. She didn’t notice when her sister kissed her softly on the cheek and left the room silently, didn’t notice the cool wetness of tears on her skin, didn’t notice that the tears weren’t her own. She dreamed of the cursed boy, of his death, the Dark Lord’s triumph, she and her sister by his side laughing. Then he was gone and it was just the two girls, side by side, holding hands as children do, walking home through the trees together.

“Kiy? Kiy, wake up.”

She felt a coolness on her face.

“Kiy!”

Her eyes opened to a familiar face, to an odd perspective, as she found herself lying on the floor, or in the lap of her caretaker, rather.

“You fell asleep standing up,” the girl said, smiling. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“I did not intend to frighten you,” Arkinea replied sincerely.

Her sister smiled. “That’s alright. Just be more careful, ok?”

The other returned the smile. “Of course.”

After a few minutes the girls were sitting on the queen sized bed, the covers rumpled as if a sleeper had awakened recently. Frimiare leaned against the headboard, the carven grooved design digging uncomfortably into her back. Her sister lay in her lap, comfortable in the hollow of her crossed legs, toying with the falling locks of her obsidian blue hair, while Frimiare stroked Arkinea’s pale charcoal hair.

“What was that about?” Frimiare asked, concerned.

“I...don’t know,” her sister replied, sounding somewhat bewildered.

Her sister closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the carven wood. “What were you thinking about?” she asked softly.

After several moments, Arkinea took a breath and spoke. “I was thinking about him and the attraction, and then I thought about you. We killed him, you and I and Uncle Thomas. And then we laughed together, you and I just, and we walked home together through the forest like we did when we were kids. Remember?”

The other girl’s eyes glazed over with the memory, the pain in her back all but forgotten, endurable only because she was comforting her dearest friend.

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered softly. After a pause, she continued, “You found me as a baby, after Uncle Thomas killed my parents. I thank the heavens every day for you two.”

The elder closed her eyes, remembering...

“Uncle!” she cried, barely able to speak at such a young age. “Who dat?”

She pointed through the fire to a faint movement with a tiny scorched hand, a cool breeze blowing in the direction she indicated, causing the figure to recoil. She quickly dropped her arm as a tall man walked up beside her, peering into the darkness. He saw the figure huddled near the bodies, clutching the hand of the dead woman, faint gasping sobs issuing from it.

“Come here, girl,” he commanded, but when she just looked at him, he glanced at his niece, silently asking her to speak to the girl.

Young Arkinea smiled and walked toward the smaller girl, easily making her way through the broken furniture and flickering heat, the orange of the fire making her white hair glimmer like a million tiny rainbows. She held out her tiny reddened hand, blowing another cool gust toward the smaller girl, causing another recoil. This time the girl closed her eyes tight and shook her head, short ebony hair falling in her face, clutching the dead hand as it grew a blanket of frost. The white-haired girl stopped a short distance from the other girl and dropped to her knees, splinters slicing her skin, and looked at the girl, imploring her to understand.

“Pwease,” she muttered. “Come with us.”

The smaller girl looked up, eyes wide and glossy, and whispered something unintelligible. She didn’t move, just stared with her big blue eyes. A gust of cold wind washed over the girls, gentle but icy. The small girl sighed and the chill vanished, leaving Arkinea staring at her, dumbfounded. She looked at Arkinea and blinked once, tears streaming down her face from her glassy eyes.

“You save me?” the small girl asked, and in response the other nodded and held out her hand.

The girl stood, finally letting go of the dead woman’s hand, and stepped forward. Arkinea did the same, stretching out her little red hand. The girl took it, and as she did a coolness spread through the scorched hand, causing both girls to recoil at the feeling. The girl’s eyes widened as she looked at the questioning face of the elder, then both smiled and clasped hands again, the coolness lingering but slowly fading. Hand-in-hand, they picked their way through the debris, flames softly licking at their skin. When they reached the tall man, the girls faced each other.

“Arkinea,” the elder said, pointing to herself.

The other smiled and gestured to herself, saying, “Frimiare.”

The tall man smiled, petting both girls on the heads, as Arkinea introduced him as “Uncle Thomas.” The smaller girl, Frimiare, looked back at the dead woman and her smile faded. Again, tears ran down her face, leaving frosty trails on her cheeks. She murmured “mama” as Arkinea took her in her arms, an attempt at comforting her new sister.

Then they followed the tall man out of the broken house, leaving shimmering frost and fire behind in the night.

Arkinea wiped her sister’s tears from her face, moving her face into the other girl’s hand, inhaling the cool smell of her.

“I have missed this, sister,” she whispered.

“As have I,” Frimiare replied quietly.

The elder rolled off her sister’s lap and onto her back, raising her hand up to Frimiare’s face, stroking her cheek gently, silently beckoning her to lay down beside her. Her sister sighed as she pushed herself away from the carven headboard and stretched out beside Arkinea, entwining their hands together.

“I am sorry I worried you,” Arkinea said.

“It’s alright,” Frimiare replied. “As long as you’re ok, it’s alright.”

The elder closed her eyes and sighed, saying, “I dreamt that we killed him. You and me and Uncle Thomas...we killed that accursed boy. And then we were children again, walking home through the woods like we used to. I miss you, dear Frimiare.”

Frimiare’s eyes darkened softly. “I miss you too, doveling.”

She smiled and moved closer to Arkinea, wrapping her free arm around her waist in a loose embrace. The other girl, in turn, raised her head and pressed her soft lips to the slowly throbbing vein in her sister’s neck, drawing a small gasp from her recipient, and unexpectedly from herself too. Images of their childhood flashed through her mind; finding Frimiare in that broken burning house; skipping through the woods; the first time Uncle Thomas came back in the guise of another; when Nagini found them lost in London the first time they went shopping there; their first day of school when Frimiare cried because they weren’t in the same class. Always together...

“It is not him,” she realized with a start.

“What?” Frimiare asked.

“The attraction...it is not the boy I am drawn to,” Arkinea answered, looking into her sister’s cold eyes. “It is you.”

The cold eyes widened, obsidian lashes fluttering in astonishment. “Me? But...”

“You have always been my sister, yes, and you will always be so to me,” the elder responded. “Your spell, your blood...has triggered something inside me. You know how I have become as I have grown...”

“Yes,” Frimiare replied. “If this is inconvenient for you, I apologize. I did not mean for this to happen.”

“That is quite alright, sweetling,” Arkinea whispered. “It is rather a blessing than inconvenient. We shall take this in stride; make the best of it.”

The younger smiled almost deceptively and embraced her sister lovingly, whispering, “A blessing indeed.”

She nuzzled Arkinea’s grey hair, soft like down feathers and smelling of sweet green tea, and placed a light kiss just below her ear. Frimiare pulled away and rolled onto her back, pulling Arkinea with her with an arm draped around her elder’s shoulders. Arkinea didn’t resist, resting her head on her sister’s breast, clutching at her silky black dressing gown like a small frightened child. She looked up at Frimiare questioningly, and received in response a soothing pat on the head, telling her to put her head down and sleep. Reaching behind her to pull the smooth covers over them, Arkinea picked her head up and kissed Frimiare tentatively on the cheek. She felt Frimiare smile under her mouth before the younger moved her hand up under Arkinea’s chin to turn her face. As their lips brushed for the shortest instant, Arkinea’s like fire, Frimiare’s like ice, both girls recoiled at the shock of the opposing temperatures. The elder laid her head back down and pulled the covers over them both before they fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Author's Note: “ Umbram mea revenias” is Latin, meaning “Spirits return to me.”