Cruel Beauty
Chapter Three
The Space Between
The Space Between
the tears we cry
is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
the space between
the wicked lies we tell
and hope to keep safe from the pain—Dave Matthews Band
When I was eight I discovered that sleep was truly overrated. I only needed about a few hours sleep at night. I discovered that if I went to sleep at ten and woke at one then for the rest of the night I was free. I would roam the house and do anything that I pleased. During the night I had no rules, no lessons. It was during the night that I gained anything that could possibly resemble a childhood. At times, I would even play.
I would explore and play until five or six, at which time I would sneak into the kitchens and take pepper-up potion or something else that would do the trick. Not extremely healthy, but for my hours of freedom, I would sacrifice practically anything at all.
On one of my late night excursions I went to the attic, which was no easy task. It took me the better part of an hour just to get the ladder thing down, but I was convinced that it would be worth it. When I was in the attic I immediately knew that my aunt never went there, it was full of dust. Velena despised things being unclean; she said that if she wanted things dirty and untidy she would live on the streets like a filthy rat.
I looked around and saw boxes everywhere; I didn't even know where to begin looking. Upon closer inspection I noticed that the boxes had labels on them, one in particular caught my eye, Family Pictures. I pulled the box towards the small window that was providing precious little light from the moon and ripped it open. Inside of it there were three photo albums, I removed the first one and began to flip through it.
The first picture that caught my eye was one of a smiling red haired girl who kept waving enthusiastically at me. I removed the picture and flipped it over, Molly, Age 8 was written on the back. I gasped, this was my mother! Tears immediately came to my eyes; this was proof that she existed, that I had a loving, nurturing mother long before I came to live with Velena.
I stared at that picture for hours, amazed to be looking at her when she was my age. I eventually moved on and starting looking through the rest of the album. All of the pictures in it were of her and various other people. As I flipped the pages I saw her grow up, but her warm smile always remained. I noticed that the pictures were becoming easier to see and panicked when I looked out the window; the sun was starting to rise! I put the box back and grabbed the photo album before racing down the ladder. I attempted to but the ceiling door back, but I was too short! I heard my aunt's door start to open so I just left it and ran back into my room, shutting the door behind me.
I know that she found the attic door open, but she never mentioned it to me. I didn't understand why. Maybe she knew what was up there and thought that I needed the photographs of my mother, maybe she was allowing me to have them now so she could steal them and blackmail me later. Who knows? I do know that I never attempted to go back to the attic again.
After that I kept my late night adventures to a minimum for I didn't want to try Velena's patience. However, just because I didn't wander around at night did not mean that I went to sleep. I often stayed up and gazed at my mother's photos all night. It made me feel closer to her somehow. I often wished that my aunt could tell me stories about her, but I know better than to ask.
The rest of my eighth year on this earth was pretty uneventful. I continued with my lessons and slipped deeper into the unfeeling shell of a person that Velena intended for me to become. My ninth birthday was just another day to me. The house elves made me a cake; I didn't eat it.
One morning I came down for breakfast and Velena wasn't there. This was very odd. Velena believed that you should always be on time for everything. She said that it showed punctuality. When my aunt did show she looked frazzled. "I have to go somewhere today; I'm dropping you off at a friend's home." I nodded in understanding. I only hoped that this friend was not the Parkinsons.
We used the Floo Network and arrived at the Zabini's home. Velena had a quick word with an older looking woman before leaving again. The women cleared her throat and introduced herself as Mrs. Zabini. So much for first names. She then led me to a room that held her "pride and joy," otherwise known as Blaise.
What can I say about Blaise; well, he was a lot nicer to me than Pansy so that was an automatic plus. Blaise was a boy and I wasn't quite sure how I should act around him. I had long since forgotten how I managed interaction with my brothers.
I sat beside Blaise on a green leather couch placed in front of a fire place. We stared at each other for awhile, but the whole intimidation thing gets old fast. Finally Blaise initiated conversation. "So, are you going to Hogwarts next year?" he asked.
Hogwarts? Velena had never mentioned anything about going to school. But you had to be eleven to attend so I didn't have to worry about it for another year. "I'm only nine."
Blaise didn't seem fazed by that. "I'm going, and so is my best friend. His name is Draco and we are going to become the most powerful wizards that the world has ever seen." Ambitious kid. "What house do you think you'll be placed in when you go?" He didn't wait for a response, "I'll be in Slytherin along with Draco. All the really great wizards come from that house you know."
I nodded, "That's nice." The afternoon continued like that, me sitting there occasionally saying a few words while Blaise chattered away about how wonderful Hogwarts was going to be and some kid named Draco. God, and to think that I used to be desperate for interaction with other children…I'd stick to adults. At least their conversations were interesting.
Velena returned in the late afternoon. She was once again calm and collected. We left the Zabini's and returned home. She never offered me an explanation as to where she had been and I never asked. I was curious but I find that when you ask questions like that, you'll always just wish that you hadn't once you learn the answer.
I remember that when I turned ten I was mildly excited because the whole double digits thing. One step closer to being a grown up and all that. I knew that Velena knew that it was my birthday because when I opened my closet I found the customary new clothes; however, she never voiced it. In fact she never said "Happy birthday, Ginevra," once in all the time that I had been there. I knew that she isn't a friendly person, but would it have killed her?
Although she never acknowledged that I was ten, it certainly showed in my lessons. My workload was doubled and it would take me the whole day just to finish everything. I even had to start giving up my long nights—my body and mind longed for the sleep and rest that pepper-up potion could not give. I was never sure as to the purpose of my many lessons; I always felt that they were just silly.
However, they did start to pay off. Velena often had dinner parties with foreign guests and they were always impressed that I could speak their respective languages. And they would also hold literature discussions after dinner. I wanted to be treated as an equal and during these my opinion was valued once they discovered that I actually understood the works that they were conversing. I enjoyed being one of the adults and I soon realized that the only way to achieve this was to become smart and work on the lessons that I hated so much. Velena was right when she said that I would thank her for all this someday.
My days continued and Velena seemed happy that I had become so obedient in my studies. My eleventh birthday arrived and I still ceased to care. I didn't even bother to look at my new wardrobe.
As I was eating breakfast quietly with my aunt an owl swooped into the room. It dropped a letter in front of me and left without waiting for a reply or a treat. I opened the letter under my aunt's watchful eye and began to read it. It was my Hogwarts letter.