Beneath the reaches of a dreary London night sky, there sits a nearly abandoned café caressed by the twinge of a sickly yellow street lamp. The sign hanging crooked above its doors reads, in neon print, "The Palace Priscilla," though her scratched linoleum floors, duct tape repaired vial booths, and painted shut windows seem to renege her title. Her tables sit unset, her counters strewn with used napkins and soiled silverware. The night has absorbed her all but for a light set above a booth in the farthest corner. Eliminated by the light's mirthful glow sit two strangers. The first, shrouded in a dark cloak, stares through narrowing eye at the woman before him. His age worn shoulders shift as she asked her pointed question.
"So you can help me then?" He begins fiddling with his pockets and pulls from them a gold medallion. The central stone is a bright red hue with a glossy tone. Around the stone, in detailed gold, lay twelve gems each of different cut and color but identical size.
He smiles at her words, baring his yellowing teeth, and whispers "why, of course, my dear"
As Ron began to bring himself back to that room, he was shocked by the ease with which the images came to him. It appeared as though he had been within those walls, suffocating in that stagnant air, a thousand times or more. The memories sat perched in his mind.
Once he had recited a few bits of information describing the room and its contents, Fred stared at him with a faint grin and asked, "Matilda?"
"Oh right, Matilda"
For a moment Ron could not recall a thing about the girl, but slowly her image drifted into view. She was young. Nineteen or Twenty. Her long reddish blonde hair had been tied back in an intricate plat and her green-gray eyes peeked out from beneath soft pink lids. Her lips, a light crimson color, sat in perfect form, pursed at the edge of a lost word. Now that Ron thought about it, Matilda was actually quite beautiful, really quite beautiful. Why hadn't he seen it before, she was stunning. Her nearly olive skin beamed, even in the dusty dank of that room. Her soft features held something invisible at first, but truly incredible. The frumpy maid's uniform could not hide the jewel wrapped within in it. Something felt wrong, something felt seriously wrong. It felt as though he was hurting someone gravely by admiring Matilda's beauty. He couldn't shake the guilt. Ron's confusion could clearly be seen for Fred had burst into hysterics, laughing and rolling back on his heels.
"What?" Ron asked infuriated.
"Boy, you really got it bad don't cha" Fred smirked
"What? What the hell are you talking about?"
"See for yourself" Replied Fred, indicating to the object perched atop a small boulder to Ron's right. Upon closer inspection the object was in fact a women's high heel shoe. Light blue and satin, Ron's fingers traced the fabric roses sitting quietly on the heel and along the toe.
"But Fred, I still don't-" he was cut off by the halo of blue light emitted by the little object. And once again the sensation met him, more daunting than ever, and he was ripped away.
Every movement Ron made brought a sudden tightening feeling to his limbs. Every breathe became more and more burdened. he tried to remain calm but his heart continued to race. The more he fought against the numbness seeping into his mind the more it rose trapping him in its listless haze.
The air around him suddenly felt dense, filled with breathe, and movement, and muffled noise. He opened his eyes to find them blurred. Fuzzy shapes drifted all about. Dancing and twirling in tantalizing hues. The floor beneath his feet shook as the room slowly came into view. He soon found himself surrounded by hundreds of spinning bodies. Their details remained blurry but they each had a familiar... Presence. As though he had seen each of them before, if only in passing.
Suddenly, As two larger shapes shifted and moved to their right another, far clearer, shape was eliminated. Just as Ron's eyes had latched onto the image something erupted in his chest, searing the tissue wrapped within his rib cage. Red hot emotion filled every tendril of his being, charring every inch. He couldn't breathe. What was this? There was no way to describe this, no title for such a feeling. All he knew was that something deep, deep inside was telling him he needed to be closer. He needed to protect it. With every ounce of strength he had to keep such beauty safe.
With each step he made the room and it's contents became clearer. Details no longer blurred and senses no longer stifled. He could now see he was, in fact, standing on the floor of the great hall a mists a sea of dancing pairs.
The blur which had so rapidly caught Ron's attention had transformed to. It was now a girl. A beautiful girl, draped in silky blue fabric with long sleek chocolate brown hair gently cascading down her back. But at the moment that's All Ron could see of her, her back. He moved forward reaching out and finally placing a light finger on her shoulder. She spun, locking her soft brown Gaze on his. For a split second a look of confusion crossed her features followed by recognition.
"Ron?" she asked.
"Hermione." he replied.