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Ciao bella (Italian) - Hello beautiful
"Dreams of loneliness, like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had and what you lost." – Fleetwood Mac, 1976
Gemma Rawnsley's swollen eyes fluttered open. She sighed, closed them and immediately fell back asleep.
An hour later, she opened her eyes again and adjusted to her surroundings; her sanctuary was dark, but a flickering candle gave off enough light to see. She took a deep breath and watched the dwindling waterfall in the corner lazily drip onto the stones below. Her heavy lids threatened to close, but she fought the urge to sleep for another two hours and sat up against her pillows.
Drip!
Drop!
Gemma rubbed her temples in an attempt to settle the pestering sting inside her head. She shifted to read her clock and calculated that she'd been asleep for twelve hours.
"Ugh," Gemma muttered. "Not again."
Once her tiredness subsided, she lazily wrapped one of her quilts around her shoulders, staggered to the other side of the room, flopped onto a faded yellow couch and apathetically stared at the tapestry-covered ceiling.
Drip!
Drop!
She rubbed her puffy eyelids with the back of her hands; the candle's musky scent tickled her nostrils and caused her to sneeze. Gemma groaned, wiped away her snot with the corner of her quilt, reached into her baggy trousers and pulled out her cigarettes. After placing one in her mouth, she lit the end with her wand and inhaled deeply.
D
r
i
p
!
She exhaled a stream of smoke.
D
r
o
p
!
The emptiness inside her continued on. Nothing excited her anymore – not even her impulsive decision to dye her hair red. Gemma frowned as she lifted a strand and inspected it closely. She then lethargically waved her wand and conjured a small mirror to float right in front of her face to see the full effect.
"How lovely."
She huffed and waved the mirror away, but just before it disappeared completely, Gemma caught her fleeting, dejected expression and paused. She waved her wand to make the mirror fully materialize again and stared at her reflection. The candlelight flickered, illuminating her red hair, and Gemma's eyes narrowed. Her hair wasn't red, she decided. It was crimson, the same shade that adorned the Gryffindor Seventh Year male dormitory.
The unwanted comparison brought about a flurry of subconscious connections and Gemma's eyes slowly filled with tears. On the outside, she began to break down; a heartbroken cry squeaked between her lips and soon, she was gasping for air between her large sobs of pain and misery. On the inside, however, she was numb and lifeless. Gemma didn't understand why she was automatically associating her hair color with her ex-boyfriend, but she knew there was no point in fighting it anymore. It wasn't worth the effort.
After several minutes, the taxing ordeal was over. Gemma sniveled and once again used the corner of her quilt to wipe the mess from her face. She took a deep breath, lifted her eyes towards the mirror and muttered a few spells; hair fell to the ground and the remaining bits configured themselves into a messy pixie cut. Gemma ran her fingers through her new hairstyle, still feeling nothing. She grimaced, waved the mirror away and rose from the couch. Her grumbling stomach signaled it was time to venture to the kitchens.
After making her bloated face look somewhat presentable, Gemma threw on a pair of black combat boots and pulled a large jumper over her head. She buzzed with anxiety, but eventually swallowed her fear and meandered down towards the basement. When she reached the right portrait, she tickled its pear and stumbled inside. The normally bustling kitchen was quiet, but a small house elf stopped tending to the fireplace and bounced towards her.
"What would you like, Miss?"
"Do you have any treacle tart?"
"Would you like clotted cream, Miss?"
"Several dollops, please." Her fingers started shaking. "Could you possibly put it in a box?"
"Yes, Miss. I will have it for you soon, Miss."
Minutes later, Gemma received her order and thanked the elf for giving her such a generous serving. She waved goodbye after affectionately patting him on the head and made her way to one of the smaller courtyards for some peace and quiet. The stone bench she eventually settled on was a well-known landmark among the stoners of Hogwarts, but she knew no one would be there this early in the morning on a Sunday.
Gemma set her tart aside for the moment and pulled some supplies from her purse; she faltered once, but still managed to roll a good-looking spliff between her fingertips. She placed it in her mouth, deciding that it was necessary to finish before she devoured the decadent dessert at her side, and lit the end with her wand. The Hufflepuff inhaled deeply, tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes.
"Ciao, bella! You wouldn't happen to have a light, wo – wait – no - is that you, sprite?"
"Ahhhh!" Gemma gasped in surprise. She fell into a string of coughs and her head flew forwards and landed between her knees. After a couple more hacks, Gemma's heart rate and breathing returned to normal and she found the courage to lift her head and see who had joined her. Much to her relief, it was Gio, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear.
"Well then. You've changed. But I meant what I said, I need a light. Left my wand in the Castle." Gemma rolled her eyes and handed him her spliff.
"Here, take this. It's mixed. What are you doing up this early?"
"Fantastic, cheers," Gio laughed, taking a puff. "Haven't gone to sleep yet, actually. I've been up doing a practice NEWT essay – don't know why though, I'm not going to need to know advanced transfiguration to play in a band for a living. I guess it's just the masochist in me. Haven't seen you in a bit, what's with the hair? I almost didn't recognize you."
"Needed a change," Gemma muttered. Gio exhibited the goofy grin that always came about when he was stoned.
"The pixie suits you."
"Thanks," she murmured. She took the spliff from him, inhaled slowly and handed it back. Gio took another puff, savored the smoke in his lungs and exhaled ghostly traces of his inhale. He then launched into a completely random and ridiculous observation.
"Do you ever stop and think about how cool broomsticks are? I mean, flying itself is fascinating, but we magical folk have manipulated a piece of wood to fly. Wood! We could work on being better at levitating our bodies, but instead we've chosen to ride around on a stick, like riding a dragon. We're nutters! But Muggles do it too, I suppose. They've got big metal boxes that propel them into the air - like birds! But that's probably because they don't have access to magic. Merlin, where am I even going with this?"
Gemma slowly associated his observations about broomsticks with the upcoming final between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor for the Cup, which eventually led her back to thinking about Sirius again. A geyser of emotions erupted from deep inside her chest and water started leaking out of her swollen eyes. The familiar feeling of crying but still feeling numb washed over her and soon, she was wailing in Gio's chest without hesitation.
The guitarist wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Gemma's sobs shook her entire body as she howled in agony; she thought she'd already released her inner torment, but apparently the mere mention of an everyday object led her to think about her broken heart again. She cried harder, hoping to drop her depressed demeanor, but knew that it would never leave entirely.
"What's wrong, love?" Gio asked softly when she finally started to calm down.
"Can't you guess?" Gemma mumbled. She sat up, put the discarded spliff in her mouth, relit the end and inhaled deeply. She welcomed the tingling feeling in her head; it distracted her from her emptiness.
"Of course I can, but I didn't know he still affected you this much. I barely ever see you anymore. I know I'm busy with NEWTS, but you're always in that personal room of yours. When's the last time you ate a meal in the Great Hall?"
"I'm not starving myself, if that's what you're getting after. This is a treacle tart covered in clotted cream. I may eat the whole thing in one sitting," Gemma sassed. "For your information, I go to bed shortly after I finish my last lesson and wake up in the early morning to finish my homework. My schedule has shifted, that's all. Everything's fine, the Staff are aware."
"The Staff? … Oh bella, don't cry, I didn't mean for it come out that way. I – I'm just a bit surprised you didn't mention it to me."
"I didn't want to make it a big deal. McGonagall noticed I was falling behind on my studies. I told her this new sleep cycle is going to help me get all caught up."
"… But it's not, is it?"
Gemma gulped, highly ashamed. She turned away as she took a puff.
"I'm still adapting to it. It'll smooth out."
"I don't think it will."
"Well you're encouraging, cheers."
"Don't you see?" he said, rolling his eyes. "You're isolating yourself and making it worse."
She grimaced and chose to pause for a moment before responding.
"I always feel like everyone is staring at me. I just want to be left alone. I want things to go back to the way they were before Sirius … I never wanted the spotlight he cast on me."
"Well your new hair isn't going to help with any of that."
"It will give me a little anonymity. If you didn't recognize me, then hopefully most of the Hogwarts population will do the same."
"I hate to break it to you, but you're not really a huge topic of conversation anymore. Everyone's more interested in Davies' fling with a Fifth Year. People are betting Ravenclaw will lose to Gryffindor because of it."
"Well good," Gemma muttered. "Finally I have some privacy."
"But like I said," Gio smiled as he took the spliff from her, "the hair isn't going to help. You'll be on the tip of everyone's tongue when you show up to class tomorrow."
Gemma continued to avoid his stare. She waved her wand to turn her hair back to blonde, but kept the length. She realized she liked it short after all and if it started any gossip, then everyone else could go fuck themselves.
"He is sorry, you know," Gio mumbled. "He's asked me how you're doing."
"And you said?" Gemma snarled. She didn't like where this was going.
"That I didn't know."
"Good. He doesn't need to know what's happening to me."
"Good? Did you hear me? I don't know how my best friend is doing. That's not good at all."
She angrily grabbed the spliff from his fingers and took an extremely long drag. She snuck a glance back him as she exhaled and saw that he looked extremely hurt and disappointed. His demeanor unexpectedly hit Gemma like a sack of dragon hide; she felt her shoulders droop as she mournfully took another drag, ashamed again.
"Gemma, you need to let the bad energy out every once and awhile. It's eating you up inside, I can see the signs. You're not well. So just talk to me about it. I promise things will start to get better if you do. Please."
Gemma gulped. She wanted to fight back, but knew he was right. She was acting just like Remus did the night he came over to share her smoke many moons ago. Her old words surfaced.
Life is a blessing, not a curse. Sometimes we outcasts need to let people who care about us into our hearts because they make our lives exponentially better.
It was time to listen to her own advice and open up, she told herself. No more running. Her brain replayed the words over and over again and she suddenly ached for the werewolf's compassionate company. He knew what it was like to have a magical condition. But talking to him would probably bring Sirius back into the picture and she wasn't ready for that; besides, Gio was her oldest friend and she considered him to be just like a brother. He, unlike Sirius, hadn't broken her trust.
"It's all my fault," Gemma finally confessed. "I drove him into the arms of another woman."
"That bloke made his own decisions -"
"I went mental trying to understand my gift."
"I don't think your gift sets you apart, love. Everyone's mental from time to time. He should have recognized that."
"No," Gemma said mournfully, "this time, it's different. I fucked up."
"How?"
She swallowed contritely. Did she dare tell him about her scientific experiments? No one else knew.
"How, Gemma?"
It was now or never.
"Gemma?"
She gulped, took another drag and pushed herself to come clean. About everything. She had to tell someone about it - even if it involved the future - because she knew she couldn't go on keeping it all bottled up inside.
"I kept having big dreams last term about the people in my life, but I never knew what they meant. I didn't know what to do. I got desperate and did some research."
"What did you find?" Gio asked. He took back the spliff.
"One thing lead to another and … I got access to material in the Restricted Section." She felt relived the more she talked; Gio was right, it felt good. "An old Divination Professor left some writings about an experimental way to dream about the future. He said that you had to expand your mind and the potion recipes he left would help give Seers a clear vision of the future. So I ordered the Vipertooth venom from you to make one."
"I knew you were lying to me when you said you needed to get it for one of Sirius' pranks," he scowled. "He would never use something so rare and dangerous."
"I'm sorry. He doesn't know I did this."
"What exactly did you do?"
"Please don't be mad at me."
"Gemma." Gio rolled his eyes again. "Just tell me."
She bit her lip.
"Right ok, er, I drank his '#2' potion. One moment I was awake, the next I was asleep and in a vortex. My body didn't move, but my brain was being whisked around to see three different events. I couldn't do anything, I was just along for the ride."
"What were the events?" Gio asked, intrigued.
"A town being surrounded by black wisps, someone forcing a potion down my throat and a surfer bloke on some coastline who's apparently waiting for me."
"… Odd."
"I honestly forgot about it at first. It didn't make any sense - I figured the Professor was just a nutter. And then the Hogsmeade attack happened."
"Not a good day," Gio muttered. He paused for a moment. "Wait – are you saying -"
"The first event, yes. I saw it. The potion worked. And then I found out that some of my big dreams were literal too. They came true, but not in chronological order. So I started being silent about the whole thing … because I didn't know if I was part of the cosmic line – that I was supposed to let it slip, because that was the only way it was ever going to happen – or if I was altering the future."
He tried handing her the spliff, but she waved her hands to say no.
"I started taking more of the potion because I hoped it would give me new developments and points of view. I kept going back to this mind opening, sleepy dreamy place to learn more, but kept seeing just those three things. Nothing else. I made all these notes and tried to put them together to make a timeline – to connect the dots so I would know how to tread lightly in front of others. I wanted to take a weekend away to finish the puzzle, but that's when Sirius cornered me and told me I was acting irrational. And I was. I was going completely bonkers. I was obsessed, but I couldn't slow down."
She reached out for the spliff, her fingers shaking again. He gave it to her.
"I stopped taking the potion. I told him I needed space, like I told you. Because I truly did. I needed time to decompress from all the chaos … I started doing Muggle yoga, actually. Kaia loaned me an instruction recording awhile back. It's quite good."
"Really, then? You're going to have to show me. I could use the stress relief."
They both chuckled, but slowly fell silent. She gave back the spliff and he took the last puff before putting it out.
"It would have been nice to see the break up coming," Gemma said glumly. Tears prickled her eyes.
"Apparently the cosmos didn't think it was that important," Gio laughed. "Or maybe it thought something else was more essential, dunno. But would you have really wanted to know? If all of the events come true, then you couldn't have changed the night of James' birthday."
"I suppose you're right," she grumbled. "So … someone is going to jam a metallic potion down my throat and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Merlin, I don't even know when it's coming – it could be when I'm sixty fucking years old."
"You'll deal with it," Gio said with a comforting hand on her shoulder, "just like everyone else does."
"Not everyone is a Seer, you dolt."
"That doesn't mean everyone is perfect. Everyone has his or her demons," he whispered softly.
Gemma frowned and thought of his constant battle with his sexuality; the industry loved a frontman, but no one really accepted a gay performer. Well, maybe the frontman of Queen, but that was in the Muggle world. The Wizarding world was certainly more archaic, intolerant and stubborn.
"But the important thing is that you talk about them," he said, switching directions with a playfully raised brow and smile. "Don't tell me you're still feeling completely blue."
"Don't sound so pleased," Gemma answered with a cheeky grin and Gio pointed at her face with a wag of his finger.
"See? Smiles are infectious. So are therapeutic talking-it-all-out sessions. We should schedule them more often."
Gemma couldn't help but let her smile grow as she reached out and hugged him compassionately. The two Hufflepuffs sat in silence for a moment, communicating through their friendly embrace that everything was going to be alright – that the future wasn't as dark as it seemed.
"Thank you," she muttered just before they let go. "I'd be lost without you, mate."