Days which resemble nothing but the shadows of the night
Silence which echoes like a scream in the soul
When the eyelids don't even have the force of a storm
When the flood carries me away I can no longer see the shore
Love which wasn't born at the right season
When spring forgets to open its buds
The ever full moons which no longer smile at me
Like chess when the queen is lost
That everything's black
How can I tell you
That everything's black
Damien Saez
Chapter 2 The break of a linear process
Hermione arrived in a large square that contained a giant cathedral she recognized as the famous Dome of Florence. She sat there, in the cathedral square, in front of thousands of tourists. The sun was setting on the old Italian city as she remembered the dream she had, the dream about her coming to live with Ron. Why hadn't she realized it was just a dream?
Maybe because it sounded like a prophecy, like an elusive truth, she didn't know why, but everybody agreed that Ron and she were meant to be together, like Ginny and Harry, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Merlin and Vivien...
She had waited seven years before dating Ron, waiting two more years was too demanding. Like everyone else, she was certain that their love was so pure, like a Venetian mask she talked to, it shouldn't have died like that.
One night before her departure to Italy, she was sleeping at the Burrow. She was lying on Ron's bed, staring at the Venetian mask he had brought home six month ago, while Ginny and Harry were becoming one like two Siamese fetus in the next bedroom. She didn't know if she was dreaming already, but at this moment, she was fascinated by the pure white color of the mask. She wondered if the mask was enchanted because it seemed like it was looking at her with its nonexistent eyes, its half open lips appeared to be trying to tell her something. Hermione was so impressed with its virgin color that she decided to ask the mask what the secret was of its purity.
"What did you do, you beautiful mask, to have such an ingenuous and milky face?"
Silence …
She thought that she was very odd, but as she adjusted to lie more comfortably, the mask appeared in her mind and suddenly took life.
"The white color of my skin is the result of my chastity." It had an androgynous voice.
"Who are you?" asked Hermione.
"I am platonic love and you're the only one who knows that I still exist. You know, people only think about desire and carnal love. I practice pure cerebral love. That is the reason why my skin is always so pure."
A landscape started to draw itself behind the mask. It was a large field of orange trees. A horse appeared in the distance and said that Ron was waiting for her.
Then, she got a speech about virginal color, a milky face, and she might have discovered why Michael Jackson had whitened his skin.
"You left England to become a beggar in Florence streets?" Asked a sarcastic voice that invaded her thoughts, it was Pansy.
Hermione didn't reply and just looked away.
"Your eyes are red like a flying monkey ass," added Pansy.
"Your voice is unbearable like a constipated flying monkey ass."
"How do you know what a…"
"What do you want?" Hermione cut her off sharply.
"I can't find my way. And it's weird, but this city doesn't seem to shelter a lot of wizard," she said scrutinizing her surroundings.
"Wizard communities are often situated in harbors. The Witch hunt was very hard and efficient in Italy during the 16th century. Few wizards stayed even though they lived near the borders…"
"Thanks for your lesson on medieval history, but I'm just looking for a place to sleep."
Hermione looked at her with interest. She shivered when she met Pansy's red and wet eyes that were like two freshly-cut wounds. She didn't know if she should laugh at the ironic situation or not. The girl looked like a flying monkey ass, too. However, Pansy didn't eye away; she stood there and looked almost bored.
"I did some research when Ron first arrived here," Hermione said and suddenly felt weak. "I found him a hostel under Florence. There's a tiny wizard gallery there. Come on, I have to go there, too. We'll have to find the underground station first."
Pansy followed Hermione, and to the latter's astonishment, she was a real chatterbox. Hermione suspected that Pansy wanted to avoid questions about Draco's welcome. It was not as if she needed to know what had happened; besides she had her own problems. The chattering wasn't at all friendly, almost annoying since Pansy talked mostly about gossip.
"Don't you feel a bit amputated without a wand?" Hermione asked while they took a secret passage to the underground platform.
"Like hell! I don't know how muggles live without magic."
"They have their own."
"Yeah, eleccity, or whatever it is," Pansy agreed with scorn. "Anyway, there's an old, but talented wand maker near a town called Marina di Massa. Draco should accompany me there…Did you know that Ollivander had a hidden child named Silenos? People reckon he's as gifted as his father, and that's why the famous wand maker…" Hermione gave up and let her speak, only nodding a few times.
They were walking so languidly that people bumped them here and there until they finally found the gallery.
Despite the little size, it was a very beautiful place with an artificial sky that was even more wonderful and impressive than the Hogwarts' ceiling. There was a crowded way, which ran alongside many shops, two restaurants, a bank, and a hostel: La stella di dannato.
-----
Hermione followed the receptionist up the stairs and was annoyed by the relentless speech of Pansy. Nevertheless she listened, she listened to Pansy saying, "When you've been deceived, even if you're the good and faithful and earnest person in the couple you can't help feeling stupid like a fork in a bowl of soup." It was so true.
"Finally, in love, there's ninety percent curiosity against ten percent fear of being left alone like an old crap," Pansy added. "What happened to me never matters. Nobody dies around me. For example, I never placed a foot on Hogwart's during the Final Battle. My drama takes place in expensive restaurants, luxurious mansions, and pure blood weddings. The last most sorrowful thing that happened to me was not recieving an invitation to Blaise's wedding. And then, suddenly, pain is killing me".
The receptionist left them in front of their respective rooms and mumbled some incomprehensible words before going back down. Silence suddenly fell between the two girls.
"Well," Pansy began strangely discomforted. "I guess this will be the last time we see each other."
"Err, the hostel is not that big, and we've already ran into each other twice today."
"Yeah, when it rains, it pours."
"Yeah...Well, hum, bye then…and good luck."
"...Thanks."
When Hermione got inside her rooms, the feeling of loss froze her veins again. She wasn't ready to go back to England, and she thought that she could sleep the rest of the day here. Maybe she would wake up and find that everything was just a bad dream. Ron would come back and say that he was sorry; he would beg for forgiveness in such a perfect way that she would forgive him.
Hermione was the kind of girl who only cried one time. She used to rehash the situation in her head until she decided to let out her rancor. At that moment, she couldn't help, but feel stupid and useless. She had been so eager to see Ron, to kiss him, to touch him that she still had his taste inside her mouth. Now, she wanted to kill him.
As she fell asleep, exhausted by the pain, Pansy Parkinson sat on a hard chair and lit her last cigarette. Her room was poorly furnished with a large white bed, a coat rack, a sofa, and a silver mirror.
She looked at her reflection, elegant and serene, taking all the mess lightly. Currently, she was the measliest form of life on earth, but she did not worry. She had tried everything; it was the same circle that leaded to nowhere, and she was tired now.
She took another drag of her cigarette, thinking that doing it the muggle way would be painful, but she did not worry. She just had to find something fast and efficient...
So how is it? I'm still wondering if I should update it everyday or post it completely...
