The Silver Kiss
Disclaimer: Okay this is not oficially Harry Potter but I put some Characters in it. Cause I love it. So this is not mine
Chapter 1: Gabrielle
The house was empty Gabrielle knew as soon as she walked through the front door. Only a clock ticking in the kitched challenged silence.
Fear unclurned with her. Mommy, she though like a child. It is the hospitalk again- or worse? She dropped her school bag in the hall, forgetting the open door, and walked slowly into the kitchen, afraid of what message might await her. There was a note or the rerigerator.
Gone to the hospital. Melissa's at Jenna's house and Harry is with Blaise. Make your dinner.
Be back when I can.
Love, dad
P.s Don't wait up
She crumbled the note and flung it at the trash can. It missed, she snorted in disgust.
It seemed that lately all her conversations with her father had been carried on with a banna refrigerator magnet as intermediary. The bannana speaks, she thought. It defended the refrigerator, stopped from opening the door. She couln't eat.
Gabrielle the bird they called her at school. She had always been thin, but now her bones seemed hollow. Her wrists and joints were bruised with shadows. She was almost as this as her mother, wasting away with Cancer in the hospital. A sympathy death perhaps, she wondered half seriously. She had always been compared to her mother. She had the same green eyes, although she had black hair that was straight,
and deceptively pale skin that tanned quickly at the slightest encouragement. Wouldn't it be ironic if she died too, fading out suddenly when her look-alike went?
Gabrielle drifted from the kitchen, not sure what to do. How could she wash dishes or wipe counters when God know's what was happening with her mother at the hospital? She shrugged off her coat, leaving it on a chair. Dad kept on saying everything would be alright, but what if something happened and she wasn't even there, all because he couldn't admit to her that mom might be dying?
She tugged at her sweater, twisted a lock of hair, her hands couldn't keep still.
I should be used to this by now, she thought. It had been going on for over a year.
The long stays in the hospital, short stays home, weeks of hope, the sudden relaspes,
and the curses that made her mother sicker and experience more pain. But it would be a sin to be used to something like that, she thought. Unnatural. You can't let yourself get used to it, because that's like giving in.
She paused in the dining room. It was sparsley furnished with a long trestle table and chairs that almost all matched, but the walls were a fanfare to her mother's life.
The gave a home t large, bright, splashy oils that Lily Potter painted, pictures charged with bold emotions, full of laughing people who lept and swirled and sang. Like mom,
Gabrielle thought-like mom used to. And thats where they differed, for Gabrielle wrote quiet poetry suffused with twilight and questions. It's not even good poetry, she thought.
I don't have talent, it's her. I should be the one ill, she has so much to offer, so much life. "You're a dark one," her mother said sometimes with amused wonder "You're a mystery."
I want to be like them, she thought almost pleadingly as she stroked the crimson paint to feel the brush strokes, hoping maybe to absorb the warmth.
The living room was cool and shadowed. The glints of sunlight on the roof. She could see through the window resembled light playing on the surface of water, and the rooms aqua colors hinted at undersea worlds. Perhaps she'd find peace here. She sank into the couch.
Just enjoy the room, she told herself, the room that has always been here, and always will, the room that hasn't changed. I am five, she pretended. Mom is in the kitchen making an early dinner. They are going out tonight to a party, and Sarah is coming over to baby-sit. I'll go and play with my dollhouse soon.
But it wouldn't last, so she opened her eyes and stretched. Her fingers touched the cheapness of newsprint. The morning paper was till spread on the couch. She glanced at it with little interest, but the headline glared "Mother of two found Dead." Her stomach lurched mother found dead, she thougt bitterly. Why not everyones? But she couldn't help reading the next lines. Throat slashed, the article said, drained dry of blood.
"That's absurd," she said out loud. Her fingers tightened in the disgust, crumpling the page. "What is this the National Enquirer?" She tossed the paper away, wrenched herself to her feet, and headed to her room.
But he phone rang before she reached the stairs. She flinched but darted for the hall extension and picked it up. It was a familiar voice, but not her fathers.
"Gabby, it's horrible." Lorraine, her bestfriend, wailed across the phone lines with typical drama. IT should have been comforting.
"What's horrible?" Gabrielle gasped with a pounding heart. Had the hospital phone Lorraines because she wasn't home?
"Were moving."
"What?" A moment's confusion.
"Dad got the job in Oregon."
"Oregon? My god, Lorraine. Venus?"
"Almost."
Gabrielle sat down in the straight backed chair beside the phone table. It wasn't her father. It wasn't death calling. but... "When?" she asked.
"Two weeks."
"So soon." Gabrielle wrapped and upwrapped the phone cord around her fist.
This isn't happened, she thought.
"They want him righ away. He's flying out tongiht. Can you believe it? He's going to look for a house when he gets there. I got home and Diane was calling up moving companies."
"But you said he wasn't serious."
"Show's how much he tells me, doesn't it? Diane knew."
Gabrielle grasped for something to say. Couldn't something stop this? "Isn't she freaked out at the rush?"
"Oh, She thinks it's great. It's a place nucleur fall will miss, and she can grow lot's of zuchini."
"What about your mom?"
"She wouldnt' care if he moved to Australia. But she's pretty pissed taht he's taking me."
"Can't you stay with her?" Please, please, Gabrielle begged silentely.
"Oh, you know that's a lost battle. Cramp her style."
"Lorraine! She's not that bad."
"She moved out, didn't she?"
No use fighting that arguement again, Gabrielle thought. "Oregon." She sighed.
Lorraine groaned. "Yeah! This is hideous. It's the wilderness or something. I'm not ready for the great trek. I could stay with you." She added hopefully.
"I'll ask." Gabrielle said, although there wasn't a chance. They bother knew that was impossible right now."
"Nah!"
What will I do? Gabrielle thought. "You can visit." It seemed like a pathetic suggestion.
"Big Deal."
"Yeah."
"Can you come over?" Lorraine asked.
"No. I better stay here for now."
"Uh-oh! Something wrong?"
"She's in the hospital again."
"Oh, Hell."
This is were Lorraine shuts down, Gabrielle thought. Why can't she talk to me about it?
Why does she have to back off everytime? She's my bestfriend, damn it, not like those ners at school who are to embarassed even to look at me anymore. She searched for what to say. Something to keep Lorraine on the line.
There was silence.
"Listen." Said Lorraine. "You don't really feel like talking now. Call me when you've heard. Okay?"
No it's you who doesn't want to talk, Gabrielle thought, but she found herself saying.
"Uh-huh."
"Okay. We'll talk then." But she didn't hang up. "Hey, Listen Gabrielle I love you and all that mush. Like sisters, you know." It tumbled out fast to cover the unacustomed shyness. "Call me."
"Sure." Gabrielle smiled wrly. They wouldn't talk about it. "Bye."
She does care, Gabrielle reassured herself. She doesn't know how to deal with it.
Who does? But Gabrielle was angry anyway. They could always talk before.
Usually Lorraine's choice of topic, but they could talk. And now, Lorraine leaving.
Waas the world coming to an end? They'd been friends forever. What's wrong with the way things were? Why did you have to go and change every damn thing? She felt like yelling at God she wansn't ever sure existed. Am I being punished? What did I do?
It all made her so very tired. I'm read to take a nap, she decided. She went upstairs.
Sleeping had taken the place of eating lately. She lay down on top of the spread and escaped for a while.
She awoke with a jolt. She grappled with the fleeting blur of dreams and regonized sounds that might have been the front door slamming, or the thud of her own rooms door. She got up stiff and unrested and made her way downstairs. Rattling and crackling came from the kitchen. She entered to find her father making himself a bowl of cereal. White-faced, he looked at her, dark circles etched beneath his eyes.
"Dammit, Gabrielle, the front door was open."
"Sorry, Dad. Must have forgotten. No one was here. It scared me. I went to find a note."
Her fingers picked nervously at the seam of her jeans. How could she have forgotten the door?
"You can't just leave doors open, Gabrielle. For crying out loud, look at the newspapers."
Newspapers? She thought. Was he talking about the articles? Why bring that up?
Why was he picking on her? He didn't care. "I was here."
"I know. I saw your bad. I checked your room." His voice softened. "Sleeping again,
Gab? Don't you sleep at night?"
She didn't answer. If he was home any amount of time he would know.
The sight of cereal made her hungry at last. She looked in the refrigerator. A tuna casserole her mother's friend Carol had brought over three days ago sat there, browning around the edges. Carol was a warm hearted, generous person, but she was not a cook.
Gabrielle put the casserold safely away and sat down with her father. She served her-
self some cereal too. She thought she could handle cereal.
Her father was staring at her. She suddenly felt bad for being rude. He looked sad. It wasnt' his fault he had to spend so much time at the hospital, so much time making up work, so he could pay for a private room. Maybe if all his side of hte family weren't off in California it would be easier on him. He should let me help more, she thought. But she could hear exactly what he would say. You can help by not worrying about your mother.
"Hows mom?" She dared to ask.
"Not to good this time, love. She's stil trying to be a good solider, but it's wearing thin."
"Is she staying?" Please say no, Gabrielle thought.
"Yes a few weeks. Maybe more."
Gabrielle saw the pinched look on his face, and the tears behind his eyes. Maybe forever this time, but he can't tell me.
They both ate in silence and mechanically. There was no enjoyment, just the surrender to physical need. Her dad had turned back into James Potter, the man whose wife was dying, the man who had forgotten he had two daughters not one.
Several times she took a breathe but the words died in her throat. "Dad?" She finally said.
"Hmm." His gaze distant.
"Dad. About Lorraine."
"What? Had a fight?" He asked vaguely.
This isn't grade school, she wanted to yell, but she said quitely and carefully. "She's moving." Suddently she was almost crying. All it would take would be in his arms around her, and she wanted that badly.
"Hey thats exciting." He said missing the point. He slurped his milk absently.
The tears stayed back up tight. A lump in her throat, and she wanted to scream out loud. Where was the old dad who might have said "Well tell her to stand still." He would joke, then turn serious to hear her our and comfort her like her mother did, but he tried.
I guess he's in there somewhere, she thought. She didn't try to tell him again. His world was to shattered for her to add her own cracked pieces to the pile.
Mom would know what to say, Gabrielle thought. Even now, she would. If only they wouldn't cut my visits so short. It seemed like she'd no longer remembered what she wanted to say than they were hustling her out the door again. No one listened to her.
"I'm going for a walk," She said abruptly. She had to walk or she'd scream for sure. She got her denim jacket from the hall closet. "Bye."
"Don't be to long," Her father called.
Doesn't he realize what time it is? She asked herself as she walked up the street. Almost ten. What happened to the worrying about the newspapers.?
The night was crisp and sweet like apples. A gibbous moon hung plump and bright. She headed for the small local park. It was a plot of land on a street corner, scatterd with trees and holdong a thick maze of bushes near the center there were a few swings,
a slide, seasaw, and three battered animals on springs that bobbled you back and forth drunkely, until your backside grew to sore to sit on them.
Gabrielle loved to come late and wander alone after evern the wild children had been dragged home. She dreaded the advent of the bright lights the saftey-consious community wanted to install. She liked it as it was now, with the few lights making golden pools in the mysterious darkness.
She settled on her favorite of the heavily ethced benches. It faced the gazebo at the very center of the parkline. Pretty little domed building had always fasinated her.
It had sets of steps all around like a carousel, and its open gingerbread sides like walls. It was always kept freshly painted summer-white and reminded her of a tiny place she had heard from an Indian Fairy tale. She had heard that bands used to play there once, on Sunday afternoons, now children sheltered there when it rained.
Take me into your story, she thought.
Moon light lit the gazebo, tracing it with silver, but a shadow crept inside, idependent of natural shades. She tensed. Her hands gripped the edge of the bench, she leaned forward to decipher it's meaning, peering into the mottled dark. She saw someone with in.
A figure detached from the shadows. Her mouth dried. Mother of two found dead, she thought. It moved toward her, stepping into the moon light on the side closest to her,
and briefly she thought to run. The she saw his face.
He was young, more boy than man, slight and pale, made elfin by the moon. He noticed her and froze like a deer before headlights. They were wrapped each other's eyes. His eyes were dark, full of wilderness and stars. But his face was ashen almost as pale as his silver hair.
With a sudden acho she realized he was beautiful. The tears that prickled her eyes broke his bonds, and he fled, while she sat and cried for all things lost.
Disclaimer: Okay this is not oficially Harry Potter but I put some Characters in it. Cause I love it. So this is not mine
Chapter 1: Gabrielle
The house was empty Gabrielle knew as soon as she walked through the front door. Only a clock ticking in the kitched challenged silence.
Fear unclurned with her. Mommy, she though like a child. It is the hospitalk again- or worse? She dropped her school bag in the hall, forgetting the open door, and walked slowly into the kitchen, afraid of what message might await her. There was a note or the rerigerator.
Gone to the hospital. Melissa's at Jenna's house and Harry is with Blaise. Make your dinner.
Be back when I can.
Love, dad
P.s Don't wait up
She crumbled the note and flung it at the trash can. It missed, she snorted in disgust.
It seemed that lately all her conversations with her father had been carried on with a banna refrigerator magnet as intermediary. The bannana speaks, she thought. It defended the refrigerator, stopped from opening the door. She couln't eat.
Gabrielle the bird they called her at school. She had always been thin, but now her bones seemed hollow. Her wrists and joints were bruised with shadows. She was almost as this as her mother, wasting away with Cancer in the hospital. A sympathy death perhaps, she wondered half seriously. She had always been compared to her mother. She had the same green eyes, although she had black hair that was straight,
and deceptively pale skin that tanned quickly at the slightest encouragement. Wouldn't it be ironic if she died too, fading out suddenly when her look-alike went?
Gabrielle drifted from the kitchen, not sure what to do. How could she wash dishes or wipe counters when God know's what was happening with her mother at the hospital? She shrugged off her coat, leaving it on a chair. Dad kept on saying everything would be alright, but what if something happened and she wasn't even there, all because he couldn't admit to her that mom might be dying?
She tugged at her sweater, twisted a lock of hair, her hands couldn't keep still.
I should be used to this by now, she thought. It had been going on for over a year.
The long stays in the hospital, short stays home, weeks of hope, the sudden relaspes,
and the curses that made her mother sicker and experience more pain. But it would be a sin to be used to something like that, she thought. Unnatural. You can't let yourself get used to it, because that's like giving in.
She paused in the dining room. It was sparsley furnished with a long trestle table and chairs that almost all matched, but the walls were a fanfare to her mother's life.
The gave a home t large, bright, splashy oils that Lily Potter painted, pictures charged with bold emotions, full of laughing people who lept and swirled and sang. Like mom,
Gabrielle thought-like mom used to. And thats where they differed, for Gabrielle wrote quiet poetry suffused with twilight and questions. It's not even good poetry, she thought.
I don't have talent, it's her. I should be the one ill, she has so much to offer, so much life. "You're a dark one," her mother said sometimes with amused wonder "You're a mystery."
I want to be like them, she thought almost pleadingly as she stroked the crimson paint to feel the brush strokes, hoping maybe to absorb the warmth.
The living room was cool and shadowed. The glints of sunlight on the roof. She could see through the window resembled light playing on the surface of water, and the rooms aqua colors hinted at undersea worlds. Perhaps she'd find peace here. She sank into the couch.
Just enjoy the room, she told herself, the room that has always been here, and always will, the room that hasn't changed. I am five, she pretended. Mom is in the kitchen making an early dinner. They are going out tonight to a party, and Sarah is coming over to baby-sit. I'll go and play with my dollhouse soon.
But it wouldn't last, so she opened her eyes and stretched. Her fingers touched the cheapness of newsprint. The morning paper was till spread on the couch. She glanced at it with little interest, but the headline glared "Mother of two found Dead." Her stomach lurched mother found dead, she thougt bitterly. Why not everyones? But she couldn't help reading the next lines. Throat slashed, the article said, drained dry of blood.
"That's absurd," she said out loud. Her fingers tightened in the disgust, crumpling the page. "What is this the National Enquirer?" She tossed the paper away, wrenched herself to her feet, and headed to her room.
But he phone rang before she reached the stairs. She flinched but darted for the hall extension and picked it up. It was a familiar voice, but not her fathers.
"Gabby, it's horrible." Lorraine, her bestfriend, wailed across the phone lines with typical drama. IT should have been comforting.
"What's horrible?" Gabrielle gasped with a pounding heart. Had the hospital phone Lorraines because she wasn't home?
"Were moving."
"What?" A moment's confusion.
"Dad got the job in Oregon."
"Oregon? My god, Lorraine. Venus?"
"Almost."
Gabrielle sat down in the straight backed chair beside the phone table. It wasn't her father. It wasn't death calling. but... "When?" she asked.
"Two weeks."
"So soon." Gabrielle wrapped and upwrapped the phone cord around her fist.
This isn't happened, she thought.
"They want him righ away. He's flying out tongiht. Can you believe it? He's going to look for a house when he gets there. I got home and Diane was calling up moving companies."
"But you said he wasn't serious."
"Show's how much he tells me, doesn't it? Diane knew."
Gabrielle grasped for something to say. Couldn't something stop this? "Isn't she freaked out at the rush?"
"Oh, She thinks it's great. It's a place nucleur fall will miss, and she can grow lot's of zuchini."
"What about your mom?"
"She wouldnt' care if he moved to Australia. But she's pretty pissed taht he's taking me."
"Can't you stay with her?" Please, please, Gabrielle begged silentely.
"Oh, you know that's a lost battle. Cramp her style."
"Lorraine! She's not that bad."
"She moved out, didn't she?"
No use fighting that arguement again, Gabrielle thought. "Oregon." She sighed.
Lorraine groaned. "Yeah! This is hideous. It's the wilderness or something. I'm not ready for the great trek. I could stay with you." She added hopefully.
"I'll ask." Gabrielle said, although there wasn't a chance. They bother knew that was impossible right now."
"Nah!"
What will I do? Gabrielle thought. "You can visit." It seemed like a pathetic suggestion.
"Big Deal."
"Yeah."
"Can you come over?" Lorraine asked.
"No. I better stay here for now."
"Uh-oh! Something wrong?"
"She's in the hospital again."
"Oh, Hell."
This is were Lorraine shuts down, Gabrielle thought. Why can't she talk to me about it?
Why does she have to back off everytime? She's my bestfriend, damn it, not like those ners at school who are to embarassed even to look at me anymore. She searched for what to say. Something to keep Lorraine on the line.
There was silence.
"Listen." Said Lorraine. "You don't really feel like talking now. Call me when you've heard. Okay?"
No it's you who doesn't want to talk, Gabrielle thought, but she found herself saying.
"Uh-huh."
"Okay. We'll talk then." But she didn't hang up. "Hey, Listen Gabrielle I love you and all that mush. Like sisters, you know." It tumbled out fast to cover the unacustomed shyness. "Call me."
"Sure." Gabrielle smiled wrly. They wouldn't talk about it. "Bye."
She does care, Gabrielle reassured herself. She doesn't know how to deal with it.
Who does? But Gabrielle was angry anyway. They could always talk before.
Usually Lorraine's choice of topic, but they could talk. And now, Lorraine leaving.
Waas the world coming to an end? They'd been friends forever. What's wrong with the way things were? Why did you have to go and change every damn thing? She felt like yelling at God she wansn't ever sure existed. Am I being punished? What did I do?
It all made her so very tired. I'm read to take a nap, she decided. She went upstairs.
Sleeping had taken the place of eating lately. She lay down on top of the spread and escaped for a while.
She awoke with a jolt. She grappled with the fleeting blur of dreams and regonized sounds that might have been the front door slamming, or the thud of her own rooms door. She got up stiff and unrested and made her way downstairs. Rattling and crackling came from the kitchen. She entered to find her father making himself a bowl of cereal. White-faced, he looked at her, dark circles etched beneath his eyes.
"Dammit, Gabrielle, the front door was open."
"Sorry, Dad. Must have forgotten. No one was here. It scared me. I went to find a note."
Her fingers picked nervously at the seam of her jeans. How could she have forgotten the door?
"You can't just leave doors open, Gabrielle. For crying out loud, look at the newspapers."
Newspapers? She thought. Was he talking about the articles? Why bring that up?
Why was he picking on her? He didn't care. "I was here."
"I know. I saw your bad. I checked your room." His voice softened. "Sleeping again,
Gab? Don't you sleep at night?"
She didn't answer. If he was home any amount of time he would know.
The sight of cereal made her hungry at last. She looked in the refrigerator. A tuna casserole her mother's friend Carol had brought over three days ago sat there, browning around the edges. Carol was a warm hearted, generous person, but she was not a cook.
Gabrielle put the casserold safely away and sat down with her father. She served her-
self some cereal too. She thought she could handle cereal.
Her father was staring at her. She suddenly felt bad for being rude. He looked sad. It wasnt' his fault he had to spend so much time at the hospital, so much time making up work, so he could pay for a private room. Maybe if all his side of hte family weren't off in California it would be easier on him. He should let me help more, she thought. But she could hear exactly what he would say. You can help by not worrying about your mother.
"Hows mom?" She dared to ask.
"Not to good this time, love. She's stil trying to be a good solider, but it's wearing thin."
"Is she staying?" Please say no, Gabrielle thought.
"Yes a few weeks. Maybe more."
Gabrielle saw the pinched look on his face, and the tears behind his eyes. Maybe forever this time, but he can't tell me.
They both ate in silence and mechanically. There was no enjoyment, just the surrender to physical need. Her dad had turned back into James Potter, the man whose wife was dying, the man who had forgotten he had two daughters not one.
Several times she took a breathe but the words died in her throat. "Dad?" She finally said.
"Hmm." His gaze distant.
"Dad. About Lorraine."
"What? Had a fight?" He asked vaguely.
This isn't grade school, she wanted to yell, but she said quitely and carefully. "She's moving." Suddently she was almost crying. All it would take would be in his arms around her, and she wanted that badly.
"Hey thats exciting." He said missing the point. He slurped his milk absently.
The tears stayed back up tight. A lump in her throat, and she wanted to scream out loud. Where was the old dad who might have said "Well tell her to stand still." He would joke, then turn serious to hear her our and comfort her like her mother did, but he tried.
I guess he's in there somewhere, she thought. She didn't try to tell him again. His world was to shattered for her to add her own cracked pieces to the pile.
Mom would know what to say, Gabrielle thought. Even now, she would. If only they wouldn't cut my visits so short. It seemed like she'd no longer remembered what she wanted to say than they were hustling her out the door again. No one listened to her.
"I'm going for a walk," She said abruptly. She had to walk or she'd scream for sure. She got her denim jacket from the hall closet. "Bye."
"Don't be to long," Her father called.
Doesn't he realize what time it is? She asked herself as she walked up the street. Almost ten. What happened to the worrying about the newspapers.?
The night was crisp and sweet like apples. A gibbous moon hung plump and bright. She headed for the small local park. It was a plot of land on a street corner, scatterd with trees and holdong a thick maze of bushes near the center there were a few swings,
a slide, seasaw, and three battered animals on springs that bobbled you back and forth drunkely, until your backside grew to sore to sit on them.
Gabrielle loved to come late and wander alone after evern the wild children had been dragged home. She dreaded the advent of the bright lights the saftey-consious community wanted to install. She liked it as it was now, with the few lights making golden pools in the mysterious darkness.
She settled on her favorite of the heavily ethced benches. It faced the gazebo at the very center of the parkline. Pretty little domed building had always fasinated her.
It had sets of steps all around like a carousel, and its open gingerbread sides like walls. It was always kept freshly painted summer-white and reminded her of a tiny place she had heard from an Indian Fairy tale. She had heard that bands used to play there once, on Sunday afternoons, now children sheltered there when it rained.
Take me into your story, she thought.
Moon light lit the gazebo, tracing it with silver, but a shadow crept inside, idependent of natural shades. She tensed. Her hands gripped the edge of the bench, she leaned forward to decipher it's meaning, peering into the mottled dark. She saw someone with in.
A figure detached from the shadows. Her mouth dried. Mother of two found dead, she thought. It moved toward her, stepping into the moon light on the side closest to her,
and briefly she thought to run. The she saw his face.
He was young, more boy than man, slight and pale, made elfin by the moon. He noticed her and froze like a deer before headlights. They were wrapped each other's eyes. His eyes were dark, full of wilderness and stars. But his face was ashen almost as pale as his silver hair.
With a sudden acho she realized he was beautiful. The tears that prickled her eyes broke his bonds, and he fled, while she sat and cried for all things lost.