Hey! …well… here you are…chapter 19. Keep sending some good vibes! I'll need them! Tomorrow is my composition mid term examination and I am worried as hell!
So…well… enjoy this little chapter…and let me know if you like it.
Chapter 19: Room 542 From Ron's Windowpane
Hermione had thought about the possibility for ages. She knew the time would come when she and Ronald Weasley would share a room again. And thanks to both Fred and Severus - and maybe Sirius later- the option was no longer one, but in fact the real thing. The real bloody thing. And she had to face it; the sooner the better.
It was a cold night and her new bed was under Ron's window- the only gap facing Room 542. Hermione wondered why the lights were on… maybe George and Florence were having a great time there. She didn't really want to admit that she was really jealous about their happiness; she sometimes felt guilty about the envy she felt towards England's most favourite couple.
She was alone, she was cold, she was near the bed were they had first touched, and nothing seemed to be going well in her life. Her vacation was growing longer and longer by the second and the Burrow was sometimes so filled with people and decorations that Fred's idea of having the wedding at the Plaza didn't seem so eccentric, but logical.
He was probably waiting for Hermione to fell asleep to enter the room. That thought made Hermione feel dizzy. How can a person that once owned your heart feel like a complete and total stranger? Hermione could sometimes stare for hours into Ron's deep blue eyes and find nothing there, but that same insecure, little child filled with freckles, and too large for his own trousers. That was the Ron that she loved- the Ron he used to be- and not the Ron that he pretended to be on a daily basis- Ron, the confident, powerful Auror-.
-'Mione- A manly voice that resembled very much like Ron's said from the door frame.
-What?- Hermione whispered back with her softest voice.
-I was wondering… I was just wondering if you were asleep- He said still in his lowest, sweetest voice.
-Well, obviously I am not- Hermione answered raising a bit the volume of the conversation. Just a bit. Not too much. She was angry with Ron for so many reasons…
-Oh, in that case… I should come later- He said, attempting to close the door.
-Yes, you should- She said bitterly. And then, as if something had hit her in the head hardly, she knew. She just couldn't let him go away, even though she was irritated with him still.
-Ron! Wait!- She shouted in spite of her weak voice.
The door opened abruptly, and as if Ron had been waiting ages- just like her- to say the words, he stepped into the room, hoping for the best.
---*---*---
But at the same time a very black, bad-tempered, professor was stepping into Room 542- a little area placed in the very back of the Burrow's garden where not even the gnomes were willing to go-.
-So…- Snape said when he first entered the room which looked even smaller from the inside. Florence was sitting in the wooden table, looking nervous for some reason. Of course, Severus knew perfectly well why, but still he decided not to think about it. She was beautiful in her white dress and clogs and that daisy over her ear made her looked so innocent.
She was not innocent and Snape knew that first hand. In fact, he couldn't think of a time when Miss Pugliare- for all he knew, Mrs. Weasley- had been completely innocent. Yes, he had taken her virginity and yes, she had been only 17 years old… but God! She had always been a little demon. She could have been a Slytherin if she had been pureblood and less brave. But then again, something about her being all he hated made her even more appealing to his eyes.
Snape did not know that she was interested in him for the same reasons. But even though they've tried to be together for so long, their timing had always been…well…wrong; inadequate.
-So… Professor Snape. Always a pleasure… now… could you please follow me through this door. My ex husband is very protective of me, and I'd rather be safe than regret it later- She said in a very serious tone; the tone she usually used when talking to Snape. They shared the same codes; the same interests and sometimes even the same thoughts. That was the great thing about talking to each other. They completely understood the other, and that was something neither of them had ever experienced with another person in their whole lives.
He followed her through the door that lead to a larger room; a room she had, of course, created herself by the used of a very complicated charm. Snape knew that the room was merely an illusion and that nobody but them would be able to penetrate.
-Professor Snape- She said quietly after a minute or so of silence- we haven't talked for a while. How are you?- She asked.
-I am fine- He said rather hardly, but something about Florence's fragile smile made him weak on the knees- Thank you for asking, Miss Pugliare. What about you then? How are things between you and your husband?
-Never been better- She said, and when she accidentally caught a glimpse of Snape's smile vanishing, she knew she must add one more thing- but he is not my husband. Even though I must warn you, he may as well be.
-Miss Pugliare, why did you request my presence at this high times?- He asked in his deepest voice. Florence knees had turned to jelly. His voice was one of the features she could not resist about Snape.
-Professor, I must say I am very shocked about your question. I presumed you wanted to talk as well. After all, we were great in so many things…- She said softly.
-Certainly- He nodded, smiling slightly- I must admit I have read the books you sent me. They were impressive, but then again, I found your last piece of work quite disturbing- He said, his smiling evaporating from his pale face.
-You think so?- She asked, frowning- You may be right, professor. It's my least favourite piece of work- She said quite politely, as if his comment hadn't hurt her at all.
-I did not say I did not enjoy it, Miss Pugliare. Mark my word, everything that comes from you had always been satisfactory- He said, then making a pause he added- but it seems to me that when writing your last piece of work you were under the influence of Nietzsche, or very unhappy.-
Florence raised her eyebrows.
-Have you ever penetrated into my thoughts, Severus?- She asked innocently- Because you captured them completely.-
-Miss Pugliare, you are as powerful as any Hogwarts professor. I know you studied Occlumency with Dumbledore during your 6th year, and I consider myself incapable of going inside your mind- He finished sweetly.
-I don't know if that's true, professor, but I like to believe you can't go into my head sometimes. You would be ashamed of knowing me, that I can tell- She stated, almost whispering.
-Nonsense!- He shouted- I could never be ashamed of knowing you, Miss Pugliare. You are a truly wonderful person and you must feel fluttered because I don't remember even telling my mother such beautiful things.-
-You called me nicer names, Severus. You can't remember, that's all… I feel a little disappointed of you because of that, though. I thought that you were more like me. I thought that time could not erase breath taking memories out of your brain- She said with disenchantment in her voice.
-You know nothing about me, Miss Pugliare- He said getting closer by the minute.
-I think I do know you, Severus. I know you well enough to even recognize what you are thinking about right now- She said softly when their faces were inches apart.
-And what is that, Miss Pugliare?- He whispered into her ear, making her shiver.
-That we both know this is not right- She said, looking straight into his eyes.
-And?- He asked again into her ear.
-And that we cannot see each other anymore because every time we do, we cause pain, not only to ourselves, but to the ones around us- She finished softly, stepping away from his arms.
-You are right; Miss Pugliare- He said with his masculine voice- I guess I will be seeing you again.-
And with that he was gone.
Metres away in his old bedroom, a very annoyed twin was gnashing his teeth. His wife- well…not technically his wife… but his girlfriend- was nowhere to be found.
"Maybe," He thought to himself, "I should have a chat with old Sevie again."
Above him, however, a very young couple were sharing a passionate kiss.
