Eden of Night
0.
The heat ran through my skin and pierced my organs, the screams disturbed my thoughts and the sweat heated even more my insides, each time beginning to lose more control, my vision fogging every second… What a terrible sensation… I hated the heat…
The cracking sound of pilasters and walls falling made my eyes shoot open, disorientated. I looked for anything to use as support, fire everywhere. I put my hands over my head in desperation and start looking for a way out. I find a window, and I walk in its direction, without giving at least a second glance to what is behind me. If I look, I know I will not make it. No one to call for my name, no one to rescue me, everybody devoured by the blazing fire, its souls consumed by despair. My legs for once start fastening at their own rhythm, and in a flash I threw myself in the direction of that same window, my arms shielding my head in a frustrated attempt to protect what was left of me. The most grotesque sound came out of me the moment my back collided with the hard and unforgiving ground, nothing less to expect from jumping out of the second floor window. I could feel my cracked ribs moving on their own accord underneath my skin, begging to come out, the warm and metallic taste of blood in my mouth brought tears to my eyes. With no forces or actual will to get up and just one arm and one leg as support, I looked with pity to my sprained ankle. I dragged myself as far as away as possible, digging my nails into the cold mud, far away from the mansion on fire, that house that destroyed itself. The last thing I saw before embarking into an unwavering darkness was the chimney slowly falling, as if it had no worries at all.
1.
I didn't meet with God, didn't wander through a vast sea of whiteness, neither did drown in darkness, didn't hear harps or agony cries, didn't see wings nor thorns, didn't fly above my body, and didn't wander as a spirit. It happened as if I closed my eyes only to open then a second later. In one state I was a moribund in front of my flaming house and the next I was waking in a hospital bed, simple as that.
My ribs no longer hurt as they did and I feared to move my ankle, however I was almost certain that if I tried to sit, not only would I feel an excruciating pain in every body part that I fractured or sprained, but would also be blessed with a headache like I never had. So I did the most plausible thing, at least what appeared to be the most plausible thing for me, at the moment, since I also couldn't find the will to talk. I stretched my arm that was once occupied with holding my ribs and snap my fingers, and keep snapping them until I got someone's attention. And I did, almost immediately I heard the clicking sound of small heels above the marble floor and I knew that a nurse was coming. In an instant I was surrounded by people dressed in white, plus the white ceiling, and the white marble walls, and the white curtains, all this whiteness burning my eyes.
"Miss Granger, I see that you have finally awakened, how do you feel?"
I was pretty sure my face contorted itself in the most incredulous look, because the doctor suddenly found the white curtains very interesting. One of the nurses, which I lately would know as the head nurse, looked annoyed in the direction of the doctor and then turned her attention to me.
"Miss Granger… I know these are difficult news, but someone must pass them to you, so I'll make you this favour. Last week" so I stayed in coma for a week "there was a fire at your mansion," she seemed to hesitate for a moment, but continued nevertheless "there were no survivors besides yourself miss, who suffered from major trauma due to the smoke, which could cause some small respiratory problems in near future, the fracture of three ribs, the spraining of your left ankle and minor injuries.
"Your ankle's already been cured as well as the minor injuries, your ribs, though, will take at least one more week to heal, by then they'll be good enough," someone interrupted the nurse and hurriedly came over and whispered in hushed tones by her ear, they talked a bit, her expression hard as stone since from the beginning, changeless, she answered something and nodded, the intruder finally retreated himself and she looked in the direction of the doctor and the other nurses, who left as she did so, "I have some minor urgency matters to attend, but I'll soon be back to explain your situation." with that said she excused herself and I was, once again, left in my own company.
Right, so my parents died… Burned. Pulling air through my noise, without even thinking I knew I would start crying, and I did nothing to prevent it. The tears came seconds later, memories of them invading my mind, my mother with her beautiful black hair and blue eyes smiling softly at me as I came to them late at night after having a nightmare, my father with his moustache, which I told him countless times that it made him look the silliest, hair and eyes both the same chestnut colour as mine, smiling with equally love for me and helping me up in the bed where I would accommodate myself between both and travelled to a world where everything was safe and possible. Soon I could hear my own sobs. All the servants, who were just like family, since we lived so far away from our own, and with whom I was raised with… Burned. Why didn't I go with them? Why did it befall on my hands the task to live with such sorrow?
The sadness squeezing each time what was left of my heart, the pain gnawing me in such way that even my ribs didn't make me feel, and the worst of all, was that I wasn't sure if I could remember the way I felt before all of this happened, if I would be able to remember the tiny joy of coming downstairs for breakfast and kissing my mother's cheek, the safe feeling of after each dinner going to sit at my father's lap at his study while he went through his mail.
My head soon began to ache and I tried to get rid of my tears, I need to blow my nose before my head exploded or worse, ached even more. Fixing myself with my back accommodated by a mass of pillows, finding a small pile of handkerchiefs by the bedside table, some sarcastic thoughts making its way through my mind, shaking them off I took the handkerchief and put all of my frustrations in it, in that little handkerchief blowing my nose. The most disgusting and at the same time liberating thing I ever did. Seeing that as soon as my head hit the pillow my eyes, once again, closed themselves. This time, it was all white.
2.
"… Miss…"
The call, a distant whisper. She heard her own satisfaction sigh, so light, the rubbing of her fingers in the fabric and her toes playing with each other was music to her ears.
"… Miss Granger…"
Her face immersing in what was the softest thing and her head so light, everything so light.
"Miss Granger!"
No… No! The feelings and sensations were slowly disappearing, unpleasant noises and lights invading her little peace until she finally opened her eyes, her vision blurred, however she wasn't sure if it was because of this so morbid white or if it were tears threatening to fall.
She at least had achieved some sleep without nightmares, as she first feared, nor did she have bizarre dreams, she actually didn't dream at all. Her sleep was replete of sensations, comforting and good sensations, something completely parallel, she wasn't thinking, wasn't seeing, merely felt and listened… She wasn't Hermione, she scarcely existed.
She wanted to exist in that way forever. And for a moment she actually thought that she would. But once again that was taken from her, what seemed to happen every time she enjoyed something too much.
Hermione grunted something back just to show that she was awake, finally opening her eyes.
Without looking the least affected by such a rude answer, the head nurse nodded with her head and looked at her in the eyes once again, that same bloody stoic face.
"Since you have no parents here in Russia, unfortunately, miss, you will have to move in with your uncle in England." The last word almost spitted in her heavily accented Russian, she was probably from the north, noted Hermione, who came from the south. "I take that you can speak at least some English, correct?" her eyes accusing her as if it was a sin to speak any other language aside from Russian.
"Da..." She answered, cynically smiling at the nurse. Just because she was mourning didn't mean that she would let others treat her with disrespect. The nurse seemed to notice this and immediately shifted her eyes elsewhere.
"You will be leaving here tomorrow by train, and someone will be at the station in England waiting for you," before Hermione could ask something she quickly added "although I was not informed whom".
A thick silence followed, and Hermione was the first one to break.
"Is that all?"
"Actually no, I'll be right back" with that the nurse left the room and what seemed like minutes passed and she came back holding something, something that looked like a portrait, which gained Hermione's full attention. No… It couldn't be.
"This was found by your house, together with some other things that survived the fire…" she handed the girl the silver portrait, it was a picture of her and her parents taken in their garden one summer day when her mother insisted that they had to make a picnic "… Along with silver plates, chess set and miniatures, would you like to take them as well?"
"No."
"Then that's all.
The girl looked at the older woman, her expressionless face mirroring the older woman's one.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome.
3.
The snow covered almost everything around her, and as it fell more and more, it grew hopes in her of being swallowed and buried together with the trees.
Each country had a way of telling its History, be it by constructions or books. In Russia, the History was buried underneath miles and miles of deep ice and snow, poets, scientists, writers, revolutionists, cruelly murdered. Her country's History was as bloody as it was dark, and it would be kept that way for a long time. But she did not have the least desire of leaving it.
The air was cold even inside her compartment, the silence was morbid and the lack of company was making her feel more and more alone.
With both index fingers, she pulled her mouth corners upright and held them for a few seconds, and then slowly as she could, she took her fingers away. And when her mouth didn't stay in the position she left her eyes filled up with tears, tears she did not made the least effort to hide, and by then she knew she had lost the will and ability to smile.
Contorting herself in agony she covered her face with both hands and for hours remained like that, the cold air no longer a discomfort and her own tears becoming her company.
When she turned once again to look at the window she knew at the very moment that she no longer was in her land, looking around these strange surroundings scared her. Her parents becoming one with the rest of History and herself forgetting each time faster the feeling that now seemed so foreign, happiness, the warm feeling that cupped her small heart becoming a distant memory.
The world was no longer as beautiful as it once was.