One upon a tIme this wasfor the Beltane Drabble War...*sigh*
Word Prompts: *birdsong *contentment *branch
Of coursethey would ask her this question, right at the worst time. She had information to find, research to do for the upcoming Beltane ritual that was to be held at Grimmauld Place - the first Beltane celebrated there in decades. Walburga, who was an odd witch – an atheist when most wizarding folk were some kind of agnostic pagan, and only vaguely reverent except for major celebrations – had only grudging allowed her sons to learn the rituals from their father before putting paid to the traditions when Sirius entered Hogwarts. As such, there was too much for Hermione to do, to find out...
And they had to ask. It was spring. Birds were chirping more loudly than they had in years, several congregated on a branch in the back garden, and the feeling of contentment she had cultivated in her morning outside, planning her research…well, it had just up and left, rather like an unfaithful beau.
They had to ask. Only Harry and Ron would dare. Only they would escape hexing from one side of the island kingdom to the other... and only they would ever get an answer.
If she could decide.
Oh, it was a wicked decision.
She imagined herself at that perfect moment, that threshold of choice. She had to decide which she liked best: in or out.
In... would feel absolutely wonderful. This knowledge that filled her, made her crave more and more. She was utterly fulfilled... in.
But.
Out... would leave her feeling so bereft, so overwhelmed with anticipation and need and desire. She knew the ecstasy of waiting... out.
She closed her eyes. Imagined.
There... there she was at that perfect moment. The choice had to be made. It had to be made: in or out?
Which? Which, which, which?
Which would she choose?
Was she going to be filled with perfection? Or was she going to be left empty?
It was hell. Exquisite, unrelenting HELL.
The decision that she had to make - she alone. No one else could make it. Oh, no, not even Ron, not even Harry - if she begged they wouldn't make it. Only Hermione.
She bit her lip and groaned low, in the agony of indecision.
Which perfection would she choose?
Ultimate knowledge or ultimate anticipation?
She sighed.
In. In was the perfect consummation, a moment of absolute unity. She was one with her perfect love.
Out. Out was anything but a confirmation, a consummation. Out was the moment that anything could happen. When she could be filled, perfectly, or left cold and aching by her perfect love.
Absolute confirmation of self.
In.
Absolute denial of desire.
Out.
In or out?
It was hell to decide. But it was her decision and no one else could make it.
In or out?
It hurt. It hurt.
Would it be in? Or out? Consummation? Or abnegation? Beautiful perfect unity? Or cold vacuum of absolute nothingness?
In or out?
She bit her lip and stared at the door hiding the object of her longing, the subject of her musings...her perfect, and most compliant, most biddable love.
She had so much work to do...so much to discover about Beltane and pleasing the gods (fine, she wasn't sure she believed, but still, better to be safe than zapped), and now here she was... stuck. Stuck and staring at the door that concealed her most intimate, most cherished love.
Maybe Ron was right. Maybe she loved the library just a little too much...
She went IN.