She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
I hadn't slept in days now. I was terribly tired, but every time I closed my eyes I'd see her face taunting me and wake up in a puddle of my own tears. Still, the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll; my face was gaunt and pale, my clothes unlaundered. I hadn't even bothered to run a brush through my already messy hair. I was drowning, and my friends watched on in horror as I sank silently to the bottom.
I had stopped attending meals in the Great Hall, Harry bringing me food when he could. I'd skipped all of my classes for the last few days as well; as much as it pained me to miss lessons, the pain that I felt from seeing her fiddling with someone else's hands under the Potions table was unbearable.
"This isn't healthy, Hermione," Harry said one night in my dorm: he had taken me my dinner.
"These petrified carrots or the company I hold?" I asked bitterly stabbing at my plate.
"This! You brooding!" He flailed his arms in the surrounding air.
"I happen to think it's perfectly healthy," I threw back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You have to move on, Hermione. I know that you're hurt, but Pansy -"
"DON'T say her name," I said darkly. Harry sank backward into his chair.
"He's right you know," said the blond to his left who looked idly at his finger nails. "She's an intelligent girl, pretty good personality when you get to know her, but she can be a right bitch when you get down to it." It took all of the sanity remaining in my body to keep from slapping him.
"Don't talk about her like that." My voice was barely above a whisper now, but still audible at least.
"Look what she's done to you! You're a wreck!" Harry stood before me looking at the empty shell that resembled me and that would now and forevermore be me.
"Harry, I don't think this is a good -"
"No Draco, this is a perfect time." He silenced the blond with a single hand in the air. "Tomorrow we are leaving for Christmas break and I will not allow Hermione to spend the entirety of her holiday sulking. Now I know that you've been hurt and I know that it'll take some time before you've completely healed from this, but you've got to let it go, if not for yourself then for her."
"Out."
"I'm just trying to -"
"Get out now," I maintained my monotone. Draco looked grave as he took Harry's hand.
"Come on, Harry. Let's leave her alone for the night. We'll see her in the morning." Harry nodded solemnly, following Draco out of the room. "Goodnight, Hermione." I scowled at him in response as he closed the door. I never realized how right he was, though I wish I had. For the time being, however, his name was taboo. How dare he try to tell me how to deal with this? He had no idea what this felt like. I was out of control. I began hitting the walls, throwing everything in sight, even kicking at the posts of my bed like an impudent child. Finally out of breath I collapsed on to my bed, my face falling directly into my pillow. I tried not to cry, tried to focus on how angry I was instead; the crying had become unbearable. Panting from lack of oxygen I screamed at the top of my lungs, the noise not leaving the soft sheets and down cushioning.
I pulled my head back, inhaling deeply. It was a great feeling, almost euphoric. The heavy feeling in my chest had vanished for the first time in days. Falling back onto the pillow I could breathe easier, my mind temporarily defogged. Cautiously I closed my eyes, waiting for the terrifying images to cloud my mind, but was startled when I simply woke to the sunlight with nothing in between. I thought little of it as it had been the first time in almost a week that I had gone through an entire night without waking up in a fit; my roommates had taken to putting a silencing charm around my bed.
While I allowed myself to wake up, I went over my day's schedule: the train will be here today to bring us back for the holidays – I haven't packed yet. Shit. That meant that everyone would be exchanging gifts today as well – Harry and Draco's gifts haven't been wrapped yet. Double shit. I thought of Pansy's gift still tucked in the secure cranny of its velvet box.
Since we were old enough to attend, Pansy and I had spent every Hogsmeade trip together. Each time she would drag me to this antique shop about a half mile outside of the village. 'We looked at your stupid books, now let me look at something I enjoy,' she would tell me, and of course I would smile, take her hand, and follow her blindly. Whenever we would go in, the owner would smile at us – we were regular customers – and he would ask the same question.
"You looking to buy it today?" Every time Pansy would sadly shake her head as she admired it.
"Not today, Leo. Next time, I promise." He chuckled, nodding as he updated the sign that read 'Hold for Pansy Parkinson'. The ring had a yellow-gold band with five stones, each set in claws. The first was an oval ruby, the next a brilliantly cut diamond which repeated throughout the band.
It truly was beautiful, and so was she. They belonged together, no? So the final time we left the store, her eyes lingering on the jewel for just a moment longer, I stayed behind telling her that I was going to put a payment on a broach for my mother and that she should get us some butterbeers at the Hogshead. Leo smiled knowingly, taking the ring from its case as soon as the bell on the door stopped ringing. That was one of the proudest days of my life. But it was over now. The box that I had once handled with such care was now tossed angrily beneath a pile of dirty clothes and scattered books.
This was no way to start the morning, not with the holidays so close, anyway. I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, hopped out of bed, now rejuvenated from last night's rest, and rushed around my room like a mad woman. Two or so hours later my desk and bed had been cleaned, I had showered (it felt wonderful to be clean), wrapped Harry and Draco's presents, and fully packed for my trip home. Once Crookshanks was in his carrier, I began down the many flights of stairs, my luggage levitating beside me. Familiar faces waved to me asking me how I had been as I passed, but I ignored them, holding my plain expression. At the bottom I set my things down and began to search the crowd for Harry and Draco. Everybody looked so happy; people exchanged presents, laughed with each other and gave their holiday wishes before parting ways. Then through the crowd, I spotted Harry and Draco plowing their way through the sea of bodies to get to me.
"Hermione, we're so happy to see you!" Draco said setting his luggage at his side. Harry pulled up beside him, contempt written clearly across his face. Draco elbowed him mumbling, "Harry, what did we talk about?" in a stern Malfoy way.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Harry said, his arms folded across his chest; he was still a bit hurt from the previous night.
"Thank you, both of you," I said. "And Harry, I'm sorry about what I said last night. I didn't mean to be so -"
"Rude? Idiotic? Bitchy?" Harry offered. I couldn't help but feel that he was right as I felt my cheeks begin to warm.
"Yes. All of those things and a million more. Do you think you could ever forgive a rude, idiotic bitch like me?" He looked at me for a second, and then wrapped his arms around me.
"You're forgiven," he said lamely. "Seven years of being best friends isn't going to be ruined by one stupid little fight." I smiled. "And now that we're friends again, I can tell you how glad I am that you showered." Gasping I slapped him hard on the arm.
"Hey, don't be such an asshole or you don't get your present!"
"Present?" Draco asked excitedly. "What the hell are we doing will all of this mushy heart-to-heart shit if there are presents? I would like mine now, please." Harry and I rolled our eyes simultaneously. Regardless, I extracted both Harry and Draco's gifts from my luggage. They were decorated in glittering reds and greens, each topped with a silk bow. Draco couldn't have gotten his open any faster as he tore through the paper. His smile faltered when he saw what the object was.
"Do you like them?" I said hopefully. "I made them myself." Draco fully separated the object from its box and began to examine it.
"They're lovely, 'Mione," Harry said giving me a quick hug. "I did need another scarf. Dray, aren't they nice?" The blond was fussing with his present, however, entangling himself in it as he muttered, '-like she doesn't even know me!' "Dray, don't you think we should thank Hermione?"
"Oh – oh of course. Thank you so much, Hermione. I'll think of you whenever I'm...cold."
"Thanks, Draco," I said hugging him; Malfoys were never very good with compliments.
"Now, off to the train, yes?" Harry said gathering his luggage.
"Yes, let's get out of here," I begged. We began dragging our belongings through the Great Hall that by now had cleared out some, and just before we got to the door a hand grasped my shoulder. When I looked up to see who the hand belonged to, my heart stopped beating.
"Hermione Jean Granger. You didn't think you'd go off on holiday without saying Happy Christmas to me, did you?" she said cheerfully. When Harry and Draco heard her voice they came running back.
"Get away from her," Harry said dangerously.
"Nice to see you too, Potter," she said.
"Come on, Pansy, just leave her alone, okay?" Draco said putting a protective arm around me.
"Draco, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry growled under his breath. "I would love the chance to speak with her for a moment, though. Privately, of course." Every pair of eyes found me as I stood there in shock.
"You don't have to, Hermione," Harry said softly.
"She can make her own decisions, Potter. I won't make her talk to me, but I would like it if she did." In the time I had know Pansy there had always been something about her that made her remarkably irresistible. Even now I found it difficult to say no to her despite the hell of last week. Silently I nodded my head and followed her to a quiet corner where we could speak "privately".
I was trembling all over at the thought of what she might say; would she want to rub it in my face? Would she want to apologize for what she had done? And just maybe, would she want me back? We sat down on the bottom step of a the marble staircase as I nervously awaited her to begin.
"So Hermione, how have you been?" How have I been? Well, I've been pent up in my room like a hermit for almost a week, I've only spoken to two people who coincidentally have been my only source of nourishment, have contemplated my own death at least a dozen times and now I'm talking to you.
"A-alright, I guess." She smiled sweetly at the lie, touching a hand to my face.
"I'm happy to hear that. Any plans for holiday?" Aside from crying my eyes raw in a cold, dark room?
"You know that my family always has a party on Christmas Day. Other than that, it's just me, Mum, Dad and Crookshanks."
"That sounds great. You should spend time with your family." I smiled at her; she could tell that it was insincere. "Draco and Harry are waiting for you. You should get going before you miss the train." I nodded, still trying to keep my smile. It was then that I saw him over her shoulder: the boy from before. My stomach may have digested itself. He snuck up behind Pansy snaking his arms around her. She giggled annoyingly.
"Miss me?" he asked into her raven hair. She tilted her head back for him to press his lips to hers and I internally vomited.
"You two have never met, have you?" she asked in a sing-song voice.
"Briefly..." I mumbled, though I doubt that she heard me.
"Hermione, this is Lane." He disentangled his hand from Pansy long enough to extend it to me, though I simply looked at it as though it was a parana ready to bite off each of my fingers. "We're going to spend the holiday with his parents this year." Her smile was radiant; I didn't think I had ever seen her so happy. "In fact, we should really get going. Father has arranged transportation for us. You should go too before you miss the train." I nodded, and as I got up to leave, she said, "Where do you think you're going?" Putting her arms out to me I bent down to pick her up; how I missed the feeling of her body in my arms. She wrapped her arms around me as tightly as she could. "Lane, could you go make sure our luggage is in order?" she asked in her sweetest voice. Of course he complied; it was difficult not to satisfy Pansy's every wish. Now that we were alone once more, Pansy put her arms over my shoulders, holding me close.
"I know that things have been difficult for you this last week, but it's clear that you're doing very well now. And I'm so happy that you're not upset about this whole thing, really. I want to stay friends with you. Do you think we can do that?" While my insides screamed, I externally nodded. "That's wonderful." Suddenly her face was pressed against mine and our lips had met. My heart stopped beating for the second time that day. "One last time," she smiled placing another kiss on my forehead. "Happy Christmas, Hermione." She wiggled a few fingers at me in a wave goodbye and ran to catch up with the bane of my existence.
I thought I may be sick as I walked back to meet the boys. The one thing I had promised myself was that I wouldn't cry in front of them. And so when Harry put his arm around my shoulder and asked if I was "alright?" I took my luggage in one hand, Crookshanks in the other, and silently began the walk to the train station.
I sat staring out the window of our compartment, watching idly as the tracks whizzed by. Harry and Draco sat across from me; I think that they were afraid that I would hex them if they got too close while I was this angry. Twenty minutes before we arrived at Kings Cross, Harry had fallen asleep with Crookshanks in his lap. Draco took advantage of this, got up from across the compartment and sat beside me, a box in his lap.
"Happy Christmas," he said cautiously pushing the box into my hands. It was poorly wrapped, bits of paper and tape plastered over the white surface to cover every inch: Draco's handiwork. Working my way past the pound of glitter, I removed the lid. Inside was a spiral-shaped glass bottle filled with a dark purple liquid. Holding it up to the light I instantly recognized it.
"Dreamless Sleep Potion. You put some in my dinner last night." He smiled.
"Don't tell Harry. He'd be pissed if he found out I drugged your food." Draco was surprised when I hugged him and after days of scowling, managed a smile.
"You're the best, Draco." He smirked, waving a flamboyant hand at me.
"Oh stop, you flatter me."
It wasn't long before the red steam engine came to a halt. I had stowed my gift away to avoid questioning from Harry; Draco gave me a wink as we left our compartment and headed to the platform to gather our things.
"We'll write every day," Harry promised, handing Draco his luggage. "Twice if you need us to. We could even come pick you up if you need to spend some time with us -"
"Now now, Harry," Draco said patting his cheek, "Mummy and Daddy need some time alone. Hermione will be alright for a couple of weeks without us. She'll be with her family." Harry looked at me nervously, but I nodded.
"I'll be fine, Harry. Spending some time with my mum and dad will be good for me." Draco smiled, taking Harry's arm as his coachman carried the last piece of luggage to the carriage.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione," Draco said hugging me with his free arm; he wasn't giving Harry the chance to fuss over me any longer, something that I thanked him for greatly.
"Happy Christmas, Draco. And Harry?" He looked distressed as I wrapped my arms around him. I would never tell him that I saw a few tears form in the corners of his eyes.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione. We'll write as soon as we get to the Manor." I nodded, allowing Draco to finally pull him into the carriage. He looked back one last time, and so I made an attempt at an encouraging smile before the sound of wheels against pavement took him away.
Shortly after, I found my parents waiting for me on the opposite side of the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Mum immediately rushed me with a strangling hug while Dad waited patiently behind her to carry my trunk. They played their usual round of twenty questions: how is school going? Did you get the book we sent you? Have Harry and Draco been behaving? (Dad). Finally as we were stepping into the car, Mum said, "Oh, and by the way, how is Pansy doing?" I had never kept my relationship with Pansy a secret from my parents; I knew that they would love me regardless of my sexual preference, and they did. Mum adored Pansy's charm, and she was like a second daughter to my father who doted on her during the summer months when she would stay with us. That was one of the reasons I never told them of what she had done.
"She's fantastic. Her parents are taking her on holiday to Barcelona."
"That sounds lovely, darling. We'll be sure to send her a Christmas card while she's there."
From there, the car ride was rather silent aside from the occasional mention of a dental patient who needed a cantilever bridge or the new décor in the dining room. Once we were back in our neighborhood, things seemed to ease a bit. It felt good to have so many comforting, familiar things surrounding me. I watched on eagerly for the sign indicating my street; Tolpuddle Hollow, White Hill onto Brymer Road, and then we were there: Chapel View. I hardly waited for the car to come to a complete stop before jumping out and running up the stone path that lead to our house. A wreath hung on the outside of the door; I smiled as the greeting warmed the part of me that had been feeling so cold. The inside was decorated with immaculate baubles, ribbons, even a few sprigs of mistletoe. None could compare with the beautiful Christmas tree that stood proudly in the sitting room. It was threaded with red beaded garlands and twinkling white lights. Ornaments of all shapes and sizes hung from the limbs of the tree, along with ribbons that were tied into neat bows. The center of this masterpiece was, as always, a glittering angel with feathered wings that sat atop the highest bough.
"Welcome home, darling," Mum said squeezing me from behind. "Now, why don't we get some tea and have a nice chat by the fire?"
"Judy, she's been traveling all day," Dad defended, steering me away by my shoulders. "We ought to let her rest for awhile, don't you think?"
"I suppose you're right," she sighed. "You go take a nap and I'll wake you for supper." She kissed my head and sent me upstairs, but not before Dad gave me a subtle wink.
The rhythmic pattern came easily to me as I made my way to my room: ten steps up, the seventh had a nail that stuck up slightly. Follow the white carpeted hall all the way to the end and on your right was a door with a violet letter 'H' that took up most of the top half. I was surprised that my room hadn't changed much since I had left three months ago. The bed was perfectly made, though it looked as if Mum had fluffed the pillows...and vacuumed the carpet, and rearranged my entire desk. I didn't mind, though. It was just Mum's way of dealing with my being off at school. The one thing that she didn't dare touch was what she referred to as my 'own personal library'.
Since I learned the alphabet I had read every piece of literature I could get my hands on. By the time I was five I had outgrown those stupid childrens' book racks, so my father built me my library. It covered three of the four walls in my room, and each of them was completely jammed with books from Charles Dickens to William Shakespeare, Nathaniel Hawthorne to F. Scott Fitzgerald, even Anne Rice and JRR Tolkien. One wall was interrupted by a window with a cushioned seat and a few throw pillows that I sat in while I read in the sun, the rain, and especially when snow began to fall. So instead of taking a nap like Mum said, I pulled off the lilac blanket that hung from my bed, picked my favourite book off of the shelf and settled myself in to read.
It was around noon time that Mum and I were setting the dining room table. Christmas lunch was at our house that year and my family was minutes from arriving.
"Hermione, can you take these into the sitting room?" Mum asked handing me a tray of some sort of grey-ish h'ordeuvres. With a grimace I brought the tray into the sitting room, dropped it onto the coffee table and continued to follow Mum around the house. A dizzying fifteen minutes of primping later, the doorbell rang, much to my relief. As usual the first to arrive were my Uncle Andrew and Aunt Emily with my two cousins Chloe and Marc. After a quick hug from from each of them, Chloe and Marc, neither older than seven, jumped onto me, clinging to my legs.
"'Mione!" Chloe said excitedly. "We missed you!" I chuckled, smoothing out her hair while she looked up at me.
"And we brought you a present!" Marc exclaimed tugging on my sleeve. "Mummy let us pick it out for you."
"You did?" I asked feigning excitement. "You should go make sure that it goes under the Christmas tree, don't you think?" They both nodded and ran with wide eyes calling for their mummy to ensure that their present for ''Mione' had made it safely to its destination.
Next to arrive were my Grandfather Zachary and Grandmother Julia. They of course each had an armful of gifts along with a cherry pie that I scooped up before it was knocked over by one of the kids who came rushing in to greet their grandparents. Once I had brought dessert to the kitchen, I assisted with entertaining the children to take their minds off of the mounds of presents now under the tree.
"When can we open them?" Marc asked eying the tree over his playing cards.
"After the Queen's Speech, honey," my Grandmother replied sipping her tea.
"How long is that?" he asked hopefully.
"After lunch and church," my Grandfather finished for her. Marc pouted, putting his forehead on the coffee table.
"That's so far away," he muttered. I smiled, patting him on the head and gestured for him to come closer. He leaned his ear nearer to me and I whispered.
"If you don't tell, I'll let you and your sister open your presents from me after lunch." His eyes widened, but when I put a finger to my mouth, he nodded and went back to his cards. "So, do you have any eights?"
Within the hour the rest of my family had arrived: Aunt Katherine with her boxes of holiday goodies, Aunt Fiona with Uncle Jeremy who always had a ridiculous joke to tell, and cousin Rylie who attended a University in the area and often joined our family parties. Finally, to the thrill of the youngest two (Marc had anxiously whispered the secret to his sister), we all sat down to enjoy Christmas lunch. Mum carried out the turkey for my Grandfather to carve, and twenty minutes of quiet conversation and laughter later, I was in the kitchen with Mum clearing dishes for dessert. All throughout dessert, Chloe and Marc bounced eagerly in their seats, for which their sugar intake was held accountable. When the table was spotless once more, I waited for the adults to adjourn to the sitting room and snuck the two children upstairs to my room.
"'Mione come on, tell us what you've got us!" Chloe pleaded as they opened the door to my room.
"Close your eyes first!" I instructed before letting them enter. They giggled as they put their small hands over their eyes. "No peeking." I put them both in the middle of the room, making sure that they had their eyes shut tight. "Alright, you can open your eyes." They looked around, but when they didn't see anything gave me a questioning glance.
"We get your room?" Marc asked slightly disappointed. I laughed.
"No, you get to pick one book from any of the shelves of my library." Chloe's face lit up, though Marc still looked a bit put out.
"Any book we want?" the little girl asked already looking around.
"Whatever you'd like." She hugged my leg before climbing up the ladder to get a better look at which books my library had to offer her. Marc however sat on my bed, his arms crossed over his chest. I sat beside him and put my hand on his back.
"What's wrong, Marc?" I asked. He pouted. "I get it. You thought that I had something better than a lousy old book to give you, huh?" He remained silent. "Give me a second." I crossed the room, taking a book from the shelf on the wall in front of me; I knew its place by heart. When I handed it to him he looked oddly at the title.
"'Treasure Island'? What's it about?"
"Pirates and buried treasure and big ships in the ocean – but it's nothing that you'd be interested in."
"Sure I would!" he said putting the book in my lap. "But only if you'll read it to me." Before I could get to the first page, Chloe ran over, a book in hand.
"Can I have this one, 'Mione?" It was an old book with yellowing torn pages; I had turned them so often it was a wonder they were still intact. Despite that, faint letters could still be seen on the front cover: "Romeo and Juliet".
"Where did you find that?" I asked nervously as I watched her move the delicate bindings.
"The window. I liked the names in it: Romeo and Juliet and Mercutio and Benvolio. Can I have it?" The excitement in her eyes practically brought me to tears.
"Yes, you may have the book." She gave me a 'thank you' hug, and just as we had all settled down for a reading of Treasure Island, Mum called upstairs to tell us it was time to go to church.
The church was ten minutes from our house, which meant packing everyone up in cars and driving there. I almost asked Mum if I could apparate there with the kids for a special Christmas treat, but decided that showing up to a church out of thin air wouldn't be taken very well by the older members of the community. Saint George's Church of England sat atop a hill looking proud and strong. My favorite part of the church had always been the marble stone outside carved in ancient Roman times: 'To Gaius Aristobulus, a Roman Citizen, aged 50. Rufinus and Marina and Avita his children. Erected by Romana his wife.' A tribute to her husband who died by British hands.
A triangular tympanum welcomed us to the candlelit entrance hall; it depicted Christ surrounded by his Apostles with lightning bolts emitting from his hands. Below were figures of people who would hear his message and learn the word of Christ. Taking both of the childrens' hands, I walked through the hall, smiling politely at people I passed. When they tried to stop me for conversation, I simply gestured to either side of me and said, "I'd love to, but we're a bit in need of a potty break. Excuse us for one moment." We moved into the nave to find seats with our family; Chloe usually liked to sit near our grandparents.
The room was three times the size of the entrance way. Arched ceilings painted with images of angels encircling God in the kingdom of heaven bowed at the highest point in the magnificent room. Stained glass windows portrayed biblical scenes of Mary holding an infant Jesus, the twelve apostles, and finally, crucifixion. I ushered the children down the wide aisle and lead them into the pew where our family was gathered. Before seating myself I knelt on one knee before the pew as a sign of my respect. Chloe and Marc were bubbly and excited as we waited for the services to begin, and while I tried to quiet them down, it took a stern look from our Grandmother before they sat down once more.
I suddenly noticed music playing faintly in the background. I had become lost in the organ's tune, allowing it to take me away from all of the ugliness I had been feeling. But before I knew it, it was gone, and I was back in the church, Marc sitting on his knees in an attempt to see the Advent candles being lit.
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness- on them light has shined," the man recited, turning the lit wick to the next candle. "The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world." As the organ began to play once more, the congregation sung: "Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright -" I merely mouthed the words which went unnoticed due to the meshing of the many voices. After taking our seats, the priest began to recite prayers.
"Merciful God, our Maker and our Judge,we have sinned against you in thought, word and deed: we have not loved you with our whole heart, we have not loved our neighbours as ourselves; we repent, and are sorry for all our sins. Father, forgive us. Strengthen us to love and obey you in newness of life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." Forgiveness for my sins. It seemed quite a concept at the time. It made me think: was this why I had lost her? I had sinned so God had taken away what meant most to me in life?
The remainder of Mass had been a blur; a reading from Isaiah Chapter nine that I had heard a dozen times, Hark the Herald Angels Sing sung collectively, though Chloe did have quite a hand in that one, and more readings still that barely penetrated my mind.
"Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them - Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant."
The story of Jesus' conception and birth to a Virgin Mary was told, how he was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger in Bethlehem where three wise men bore him gifts. While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks followed the story; it had always been my favorite hymn. "All glory be to God on high, and to the Earth be peace; good will henceforth from Heaven to men
begin and never cease."
Finally, through my stupor I heard the priest say to the congregation, "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord," to which they replied, "In the name of Christ. Amen." Chloe and Marc were carried back to the car (they had fallen asleep sometime during the Christmas story), and so I was obligated to shake hands and make small talk with elderly members of the church.
"How is school going, dear?" one of the women asked me. As far as anyone was concerned, I had spent the last seven school years at the Chilton Cantelo School just south of Somerset.
"It's lovely, thank you," I said with a smile that I tried to keep sincere.
"And you're into acting there I hear?"
"Yes, in fact our school just recently put on a small production of the Pirates of Penzance."
"Oh, that sounds delightful!" she beamed. "Be sure to have your mother send me pictures of the next one."
"I'll be sure to tell her. I'm sorry we couldn't talk longer, though, I really must be getting back to my family."
"Yes, of course! Where are my manners? Happy Christmas to you and your family. And best of luck to you!"
"Thank you. Happy Christmas."
When we got home the first thing that Chloe and Marc asked to do was open their presents which they had been impatiently waiting to do all day. The adults, a group in which I was now included, each had a cup on hot tea in hand as they sat around the Christmas tree watching while the two young children ripped through wrapping paper and excitedly exclaimed the name of each present they received. I wasn't very interested in presents that year; there were much more pressing matters on my mind than which socks my Grandmother knitted for me. Even the Queen's speech about her visiting foreign countries and remembrance of Princess Diana didn't really interest me.
It wasn't long before the party began to disband; Aunt Fiona with Uncle Jeremy were first, followed by cousin Rylie who drove Aunt Katherine home. Grandfather and Grandmother left next, each wishing me a Happy Christmas with a kiss on the cheek. And last to leave were Uncle Andrew and Aunt Emily. Chloe and Marc had fallen asleep in my lap while I read Treasure Island with all of the appropriate voices and sound effects. As their parents scooped them into their arms, they stirred just long enough to say, "Happy Christmas, 'Mione," and "Thank you for the story." I noticed Chloe clutching her new book tightly in her little hands before the door closed, and all was quiet once more.
"I think I'm going to go to bed," I said pretending to yawn.
"Of course, honey. It's been a long day, and you were so good with the kids." Mum hugged me close to her. "Happy Christmas, Hermione."
"Happy Christmas, Mum." Dad didn't give me a second to get away before he picked me up in a hug and spun me around.
"Dad, I'm too old for that," I laughed. He smiled, kissing my forehead.
"You will always be my little girl, so as far as I'm concerned, you will never be too old for your daddy to pick you up."
"I love you, Daddy," I smiled, hugging him once more.
"And I love you, 'Mione."
Sitting in my window that night wasn't the same without my usual book. Watching the snow fall outside I began to think about what the priest had said that night in church. Though I tried to shake the thought from my mind with tales of Greek gods and goddesses, even they didn't serve as an adequate distraction. With words of regret ringing dully in my ears I decided that I should at least try to get some sleep. Draco's purple bottle sat on my bedside table. I had chosen to save the potion for when I truly needed it; this did not seem like such an occasion. Twenty minutes later, however, I continued to stare at my ceiling wide-eyed with no intention of sleeping. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop thinking about whatever it was I had done to deserve this. I was a sinner, and this was my punishment.
Instead of tossing and turning in my bed for hours, I got up and headed to my library. I ran a hand over the first shelf until I came across a gold-leafed Bible I had received some years ago. Book in hand, I went back to my bed, kneeling at the edge as if I had been back at church. After flipping through the pages for a moment or so, I found the passage I had been eagerly looking for. In my quietest voice, I began to read aloud:
"Merciful God, my Maker and my Judge, I have sinned against you in thought, word and deed: I have not loved you with my whole heart, I have not loved my neighbours as myself; I repent, and am sorry for all my sins. Father, forgive me. Strengthen me to love and obey you in newness of life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." Taking a deep breath I continued.
"I'm not sure what it is I've done, but I beg that you show me a way to make this better, please. Even though my sort of relationship is...well, condemnable, you must understand that I love her, and she loved me – she loves me still – and you never would have let us get together in the first place if we weren't meant to be, I know it!" Tears were pouring from my eyes now as I silently screamed through sobs. "Whatever it takes, I'll do it. I promise you, I'll do everything right from now on. Please, help me."
With that, I collapsed into a puddle of tears on my floor. Reflecting on it now it seems foolish to have spent so much time crying when I could have been doing something conducive instead. But of course, I let my heart get the best of me. Pansy brought that out in me; I'd spend so much time trying to figure out how to make everything perfect that I'd forget to look at the big picture. What I wouldn't give to turn back time...