Chapter 9: The Mahavira Hill in Kathmandu
How do I love,
When hundred years on Earth seem like but two days?
How do I open my heart,
When after two days, we'll separate?
It is not enough
Give me half a century to whisper tender things in her ears
Another hundred years to share a kiss with her
Give me another hundred years to hug her tight
Another hundred years to make love to her
Then, we'll have a compromise; a seven-day week
Only then will I let Kama's arrow pierce my heart
And only then will I not mind the blood that will leak…
Kathmandu, Nepal
The dying rays of the sun kissed the beautiful pink-marble temple built atop Mahavira Hill. It was known as the Nataraja temple as it housed a bronze statue of the deity Nataraja, the Lord of Dance. The temple had a wide ten-pillared hall. Doors and windows were notably absent from its beautiful architecture. The wind playfully teased the numerous bells hanging from the dome ceiling. A troop of monkeys, having stolen fruit offerings consisting of bananas, coconuts, apples and oranges, was noisily gamboling in the yard. Soon, they would be making their way back to their cosily-nestled sleeping quarters in the branches of trees of the Mahavira Forest. Their pleasures were simple.
Ladon, drenched in sweat, sat down against a pillar of the temple. He sported white jeans, and a beige kurta open till the waist. The loose article of clothing flapped in the wind and hid little of his well-toned chest. There was a black G-clef pendant, which he rarely ever took off, around his neck.
Ladon rolled up the sleeves of his kurta, revealing a Japa mala made up of 108 ivory-coloured small beads - a number held sacred in Hinduism and Buddhism alike – wrapped around his wrist and stretching till the middle of his forearm. He then opened a can of beer and took a sip of the chilled drink. He had not had to use Muggle money to buy the drink. Indeed, as the Indra Jatra festival was currently being celebrated in Kathmandu, beer sprouted freely from Bhairava masks, and it was being liberally distributed in the streets.
Ladon closed his eyes as he listened to the soothing burbles and gurgles of the Bhote Koshi River lazily flowing by the side of the deserted shrine.
He had sent Kiki and Bobo on a secret expedition many hours ago. The parrots had had to drink a special potion before launching themselves on a long trip to England.
Today was her birthday, and she had to receive the flowers…Would she like them? How was she? Was she happy? She had to be. She was brilliant at her work. She had a loving family. She was in love with someone… Damn that guy. Was she being as deeply cherished as she - the compassionate, clever, and lovely Hermione Granger - deserved?
Ladon's mind called upon him to concentrate on other more urgent matters. His heart, however, protested.
He had constantly fought against his feelings for her, but their intensity had not diminished with the bittersweet passing of time; where she was concerned, the grains of sand in the hourglass had not only stilled, but had piled up to the bursting point. Yes, he had tried letting go of his feelings, tearing them from out of his heart and placing them in the palm of his hand. Like a scarf made up of rainbow pigments, he had let them slither over a little distance, caressed and lured by the whispery breeze; but he had ended up mercilessly pulling them back to him.
Letting go was beyond him.
The air around him seemed to adorn shimmery colours whenever he thought about her. It pulsed with something so incredibly fine and untamed he longed to close his fingers around it. His heart beat with a strange piercing rhythm; it writhed with an emotion so deep and yet so subtle – like the hushed, melancholic cry of a violin. He could not really understand the "whys" of things; he just went on feeling…
Oh, enough of introspection!
Sighing, Ladon finished the beer. He then grabbed the hilt of the sword that lay by his side and unsheathed it. The pause was over. On to some action! He stood to his feet and at once resumed his sword practice.
…
Dusk had fallen. Hiding the dagger behind her, she slowly walked towards the temple, making sure to remain in the shadows. She kept a hand on the wand in her pocket just in case she needed to retrieve it rapidly. She could see the tall man with the shoulder-length blond hair practicing alone. His lean body moved with a maddening feline grace. It was sheer delight watching his strong muscles flexing and contracting underneath the kurta as he skillfully swung a heavy sword about, ruthlessly slashing at the air. The atmosphere around him rippled with electricity.
She was very near now. His back was turned to her. Perfect. She would succeed this time. She raised the dagger to strike. All of a sudden, her world toppled upside down, and a pain shot up her back. She felt thoroughly disoriented, her eyes blinking in confusion, as she found herself lying on the floor, the sharp tip of a sword held perilously close to the vein in her neck. It was his intense silver grey eyes that speared through her, though.
Ladon Hydras was a strikingly handsome man.
"Claire, I should have known— the typical uninventive advance, the weak attack, and the mockery of a defense," he observed, pulling her up.
"Your back was turned! How did you manage to surprise me?" Claire asked wonderingly.
"Reflections, Claire. It's a full moon night, and you are walking around with a silver dagger. You were as unobtrusive as an elephant; I allowed you to come near," he returned. Ladon took the ruby-encrusted dagger from Claire and started inspecting it.
"Where's your ring?" Claire enquired, noticing the bare, thin band of paler skin on his ring finger.
"None of your business, Claire," Ladon answered as he handed the dagger back to her. "Why are you here?"
"I missed you, Ladon! I haven't forgotten our night together, in the haystack," she drawled languidly. "Do you remember?" she asked in a whisper.
He came very close to her; one of his eyebrows lifted a fraction as he peered deep into her eyes. She shivered as she beheld those grey eyes with the queer splashes of dark blue. Behind the fringe reaching the top of his eyebrows was a long crimson tikka that contrasted marvellously with his dark blond hair and light-coloured clothes. The tikka was a mark men in that region of the world wore during prayer sessions. It was applied with the thumb, in the middle of the forehead, in a single upward stroke.
"I know you are an amazing Legilimens, Ladon, but don't tell me you need the help of Legilimency to remember what happened only a year ago! That's insulting!" Claire rebuked slightly, pouting.
"What's insulting is your thinking I'd use Legilimency on an unworthy subject such as you," Ladon said, the shadow of a smile on his sinful lips.
"Oh Ladon, don't pretend you don't like me! Tell the truth, you still remember, don't you?" Claire caught one of his wrists.
"My mind does not dwell on such forgettable matters," he answered, turning away from her. His sword cut through the air and extinguished a whole range of the small oil lamps lit on one side of the temple.
"You are lying! It was the best time of my life! How can it be unimportant to you?" Claire shrieked angrily. "I can't get you out of my head, however hard I try!" He paid her no attention, but continued wielding the sword with breathtaking skill.
"Listen to me!" she cried out impatiently.
"Claire, I told you then and I am telling you now, it was a one night thing, nothing more. Forget about it," he answered coldly, still ignoring her. Watching him handling the sword with so much ease and proficiency, Claire almost forgot what she was about to say.
"You- You bloody hypocrite! How can you write that column 'Insight into the fascinating minds of witches' and then—and then treat me like this!"
Annoyed with her shrewish behaviour, Ladon placed the sword back at Claire's neck in a swift, dexterous move.
"Let me make this very clear, Claire," he said in a dangerous tone. "I told you, before I even touched you, that what would happen between us was going to be a mere satiation of our mutual desires, sex with no strings attached. You agreed. End of story."
Dark waves of anger emanated from him. Claire swallowed.
"Now go from here," he ordered, lowering the sword.
"Hey, I don't remember you ever being so serious! I was joking!" Claire broke into peals of laughter. Ladon eyed her with a steely glint in his eyes.
"You better be, Claire. You don't deserve to go through a heartbreak—if that dramatic display contained an ounce of truth—for someone like me."
"You don't have a heart, do you, Ladon?"
"Maybe not," he said as he continued to hone his sword fighting techniques.
"Don't you want to know the real reason I'm here, then?" Claire enquired.
"I am not in the least curious now," he replied drily.
"Well, I'll tell you anyway. I wanted to know if you could reveal some of the things that are gonna show up in tomorrow's issue of The Passion Serpent!"
"Do you think I'm going to reveal this to a woman who works for Gossip Weekly?" he stated with a hint of disdain.
"No other magazine or newspaper can compete with you, Ladon! It won't hurt if you could-"
"No."
"Okay, would you at least agree for an interview with—"
"No."
"Fine! Perhaps you could tell me who the girl you sent flowers to today is?" she asked, hoping to capture the whole of his attention.
"You've been spying on me these last few days, haven't you?" he stated, unaffected.
"How did you know? And why doesn't it seem to surprise you?" she reproached, not understanding the amusement in his voice.
"I told you, you are as unobtrusive as an elephant. You never fail to leave trails behind. Anyway, I saw you hiding behind that plum tree half an hour ago," Ladon laughed.
"Ohhh," muttered Claire, embarrassed.
"You are a witch, and yet, no good at concealment. You should use that brain from time to time, Claire."
He turned to face her and without uttering a word, promptly took out his wand and summoned Claire's wand to him, effectively disarming her.
"Now, should I transfigure you into a plum?" he asked teasingly.
"Only if you promise to eat me afterwards, darling…" Claire replied back sultrily.
"That is an option, but I'm not very hungry at the moment. The monkeys would appreciate you better," he countered.
Angry, Claire tried to throw herself at him, but missed as he effortlessly dodged out of her way. She once again fell down in an unflattering manner. Someone else would have laughed; Ladon didn't. He quietly extended a hand to her, his mesmerizing eyes glittering darkly. Claire could not help the thrill of expectation that zinged through her.