A/N: I'm a bit disappointed that no one got my hidden Bon Jovi link in "The
Mirror and the Memory". It was the line where Rene says "I wished that I
could be in another time and place, with someone else's soul and someone
else's face." That's a line from the song "Someday I'll be Saturday night"
which is fabulous, and it did fit the moment very well, I thought. But,
fear not! You'll have a chance to redeem yourselves in a later chapter, I
promise!
I have mentioned it before, but I will mention it again. I have a midi version of the piece of music "Canon", and it is very easily sent
Burning hands and faces
Nothing short of Draught of Living Death would have let me sleep that night. I tossed and turned, musings on the day ahead revolving turbulently around my already clouded mind. I was certain that James would have been told a story, whether or not it would be the correct one, I did not know, but the most probable scenario was that James would want some sort of fight over it all. He always did, he just couldn't resist showing his metal to anyone who would watch. I did fear for Severus, however. I had no thought in me that suggested he was any good with his fists; I had never seen him use any form of attack but his wand and his words. I decided I would just have to keep close, to prevent him from getting shown up to badly on what was meant to be a great day in our lives.
I turned over to look at my clock for the hundredth time in an hour, to see it was five to six. Deciding this was as close as I was going to get to a decent hour, I got up, dressed, and walked down to the common room, and there it was again. The violin. Just as before, the music was flowing and elegant, and the piece was Canon. It was again coming form the boy's dormitory, and was as calming as it had been the first time I had ever heard it. I had to use all my strength not to follow the sound to find out where it was coming from, and it indeed took a great deal more out of me to force myself out into the grounds for a walk.
I went to the lake, but the sound had become haunting. An encompassing addiction that would not leave me alone. It danced across the water's surface, and breezed through the unruly grass. The sound of the strings refused stubbornly to leave my head, and I walked on for a great time listening to their persistent, penetrating tones. I glanced at the sky as dawn began to become more apparent, but did little more than glance, and it took me another two hours, and for my hand, uncovered by cloak, to burn so intensely that it began to give off faint steam for me to realise that I was running very late. The music had occupied me to such an extent that I had been oblivious to pain, but the moment I saw the fury of the blisters and sores all over my fingers and palm, the enchantment disappeared, and pain over-rode it. I ran up to the hospital wing as fast as I could, where Madam Pomfrey was rather suprised to see me.
"Good morning, Miss Montague." She said warily, regarding me as if I were there to cause trouble. "Can I help you?"
I looked at her, a pained expression on my face.
"I...I don't know, you see...I spilt some, some sort of potion over my hand, and, well..." I released the offending limb from the grip of the other, and showed her it.
"Oh good god!" She muttered "What on *earth* did you spill on it? I've not seen anything like it!"
"I...I don't know. I just, knocked something over in...well, it just went all over my hand!"
She looked at me suspiciously again.
"Ah, I see. Its one of *those* accidents, was it? Well, may I suggest, if you really must go where you are not supposed to, make sure next time it is not the potions lab! 9 times out of 10, that's where an injury occurs from!"
She busied herself with bandages and balms, and the pain receded to a dull ache. I was commanded to let it be for at least 24 hours, and to keep it well protected. I slunk out of there half an hour later to be greeted by an angry face, capped with a mop of messy black hair. The raw, burning scarlet of said face was nicely complimented by the rouge and ochre tones of Gryffindor robes.
I have mentioned it before, but I will mention it again. I have a midi version of the piece of music "Canon", and it is very easily sent
Burning hands and faces
Nothing short of Draught of Living Death would have let me sleep that night. I tossed and turned, musings on the day ahead revolving turbulently around my already clouded mind. I was certain that James would have been told a story, whether or not it would be the correct one, I did not know, but the most probable scenario was that James would want some sort of fight over it all. He always did, he just couldn't resist showing his metal to anyone who would watch. I did fear for Severus, however. I had no thought in me that suggested he was any good with his fists; I had never seen him use any form of attack but his wand and his words. I decided I would just have to keep close, to prevent him from getting shown up to badly on what was meant to be a great day in our lives.
I turned over to look at my clock for the hundredth time in an hour, to see it was five to six. Deciding this was as close as I was going to get to a decent hour, I got up, dressed, and walked down to the common room, and there it was again. The violin. Just as before, the music was flowing and elegant, and the piece was Canon. It was again coming form the boy's dormitory, and was as calming as it had been the first time I had ever heard it. I had to use all my strength not to follow the sound to find out where it was coming from, and it indeed took a great deal more out of me to force myself out into the grounds for a walk.
I went to the lake, but the sound had become haunting. An encompassing addiction that would not leave me alone. It danced across the water's surface, and breezed through the unruly grass. The sound of the strings refused stubbornly to leave my head, and I walked on for a great time listening to their persistent, penetrating tones. I glanced at the sky as dawn began to become more apparent, but did little more than glance, and it took me another two hours, and for my hand, uncovered by cloak, to burn so intensely that it began to give off faint steam for me to realise that I was running very late. The music had occupied me to such an extent that I had been oblivious to pain, but the moment I saw the fury of the blisters and sores all over my fingers and palm, the enchantment disappeared, and pain over-rode it. I ran up to the hospital wing as fast as I could, where Madam Pomfrey was rather suprised to see me.
"Good morning, Miss Montague." She said warily, regarding me as if I were there to cause trouble. "Can I help you?"
I looked at her, a pained expression on my face.
"I...I don't know, you see...I spilt some, some sort of potion over my hand, and, well..." I released the offending limb from the grip of the other, and showed her it.
"Oh good god!" She muttered "What on *earth* did you spill on it? I've not seen anything like it!"
"I...I don't know. I just, knocked something over in...well, it just went all over my hand!"
She looked at me suspiciously again.
"Ah, I see. Its one of *those* accidents, was it? Well, may I suggest, if you really must go where you are not supposed to, make sure next time it is not the potions lab! 9 times out of 10, that's where an injury occurs from!"
She busied herself with bandages and balms, and the pain receded to a dull ache. I was commanded to let it be for at least 24 hours, and to keep it well protected. I slunk out of there half an hour later to be greeted by an angry face, capped with a mop of messy black hair. The raw, burning scarlet of said face was nicely complimented by the rouge and ochre tones of Gryffindor robes.
