Disclaimer: wouldn't cha know it? Still not mine!
The Globe
The drink served its purpose, but it also made Hermione realize that she was famished. She hadn't eaten since entering the globe and who knew how long ago that had been; it's quite hard to tell time in a snow globe.
Turning away from the counter, Hermione's jaw dropped in disbelief; sitting on the table in front of her was a dinner setting for one. Why there was even a rose in the center of the table! Hermione turned in circles looking high and low, but there was no one here, no one that could have set the table while she wasn't looking.
It was a rather strange feeling not knowing who was here; but it was not quite as uncomfortable as the pangs inside her stomach so she decided to take a risk and eat. There was soup, spaghetti, rolls, there was even a small strawberry short cake for dessert! And it all tasted wonderful. Now, if there were only some where she could sleep.
Hermione got up from the table and headed towards the kitchen door, but when she got there she paused and turned back to go and clean up her dishes. But much to her wondering eyes, she found that all the dishes had disappeared. It was as if they had never been there in the first place! With her head tilted inquisitively to one side she thought, what a curious place this is.
But a noise interrupted her thoughts, and awakening from her daze, she realized that Professor Irving was standing in front of her. A scowl darkened her features and she glared at the malicious man.
"Good evening," he said bowing, his voice dripping with false formalities, "So nice to see you again my dear."
Hermione's eyes burned with spite as she replied, "Wish I could say the same."
"You will some day I'm sure," the man laughed, "When you have come to your senses. I take it that you haven't as yet?"
"On the contrary, the day I am glad to see you will be the day I have lost every sense I had."
"Whatever works. It doesn't matter to me either way. You'll still be my bride before this is through." A wry smile crossed his lips and Hermione had the distinct vision of slapping it off his face, but she unstrained herself.
"Don't hold your breath." By now, Irving had crossed the room and was very close to Hermione.
"I won't, not when there are so much better things to hold," he said snaking his arms around her waist.
Hermione struggled, but she was no match for his strength. He was holding her so close that she could barely breathe, his wicked smile growing. After a moment of watching the girl struggling, he swiftly bent his head down and pressed his lips hard to hers.
Hermione found that between the pressure his lips and arms were applying, there was no way she could free herself. So instead she opened her mouth and bit down as hard as she could.
In an instant, the taste of blood filled her mouth and she found herself being flung into the kitchen wall. Not ready for the impact, Hermione slid down to the floor.
"You little…" Irving proceeded to call her many offensive names while holding his bottom lip to try and subdue the bleeding.
Hermione stood and brushed her clothing straight. Professor Irving was once more in front of her. With one last name, he backhanded Hermione across the face before turning towards the center of the room.
He reached for his necklace but stopped and turned quickly to Hermione. "You should see the woman they got to substitute for you. She's probably in her late twenties and has a body that's to die for. And as things looks, she has taken quite a liking to Defense Against the Dark Arts." His eyes remained locked with Hermione's for a moment more before he disappeared.
Holding her face, Hermione let the tears flow silently from her eyes.
It was horrible being a prisoner and to be so alone. When Hermione had finally composed herself, she found that she wanted to relax and calm down. Deciding that she could not spend the entire rest of her life in the kitchen, she walked out and went to look through the rest of the house.
A door stood ajar at the end of the hallway catching Hermione's eye. She decided to explore this room first. Inside the room there seemed to be a floral décor, with many different types of plants and trees painted on the walls and the rest of the items in the room. Fairy creatures appeared to be hiding amongst the flowers. But the most spectacular thing about the room was that right in the center, there was an old fashioned bath tub full of hot water and complete with bubbles.
Hermione got the distinct impression that the bath had been drawn for her, but by whom or why it was done, she could not guess. However, she allowed he clothing to slip to the floor and she climbed into the soothing water.
She missed Remus more than she missed any thing. Life without him was pointless. He had become more important to her than oxygen. Her thoughts turned to the woman that was taking her teaching place. Certainly Remus would never go for her as Irving had implied. He loved Hermione! And even if he didn't it wasn't a very Remus-like thing to do.
No, Irving had to be lying, but she couldn't help dwelling on how life was being for him.
When Hermione finally got out of the tub, she grabbed a towel and tried to find the bed room. This proved quite easy as there just so happened to be a door open, and in this room there just so happened to be a bed. The bed was a rather large four poster, like the ones at Hogwarts only bigger. It was covered in pink sheets and curtains. There was also many other objects that would be found normally in a bed room such as dressers, mirrors, a closet, a small breakfast table, and other such items.
Now if only I had a decent night gown, she thought as she looked at the bed. On a whim Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she did, found a dark red satin night gown laying on the bed. Excellent. She slid the night gown on and climbed into bed falling into a dreamless sleep.
When Hermione woke up in the morning, she found her clothing washed and pressed sitting on the chair and her breakfast lying on the table. Getting up, she dressed and breakfasted.
She could definitely get used to the service here; yet it made her feel even more helpless than she was. There was nothing she could do for herself. Everything was done for her and there was never any one here.
But then she remembered the person from the day before and decided that a small visit was in order. She wasn't quite sure what was making her so audacious at the moment, maybe it was the entire lack of anything to do; but whatever the reason she found herself only moment's later with four feet in the snow heading toward the woods.
When one was not running, the forest was a fantastic sight. There were so many trees all covered in snow, very pretty. But there was something missing. It was quiet, unnaturally quiet. It was then that she noticed she appeared to be the only animate creature in the whole forest.
Soon she was in front of the small cottage again. As she slunk around the shack, she noticed the apparent emptiness. Her wolfish form was too short to look into the window comfortable, so she transformed into her human self. She peered into the window but could see nothing still. But suddenly-
"Freeze!" said a voice from behind her, "No funny stuff!"
Hermione slowly turned around and was amazed at what she saw.
Standing before her was not some psychotic angry man as she had expected, but well, a rather comical find. The man was old, by witness of his white hair and over grown snowy beard, but he was not stooped but quite tall. His clothes seemed rather odd, as if he had stumbled into an unlit closet and attempted dressing in the dark. He was wearing yellow color shorts that were decorated with small palm trees and a blue and white striped shirt. On his feet were two dull green slippers that were more than slightly worn. His thin and pale calves peered out from above his drooping socks. Both of his wrists were covered with watches, yet none appeared to be moving. But the most quizzical thing about his looks was the old brown leather aviator's cap he wore on his forehead.
As Hermione was busy assessing this new finding, she missed the fact that the man seemed slightly paranoid. "I said freeze!" he shouted when she turned around all together too quickly for his liking, and he shot at Hermione with his rather large gun.
The blow struck Hermione in the stomach and she had just enough time to brief herself for the excessive pain that would come upon impact- yet the pain did not come.
A quick glance at her feet saved her from wondering why; a foam ball about the size of an apple lay between her feet. It was the same kind that her cousins used to have to play cops and robbers and such with. Her gaze shifted from the ball to the now grumpy man in front of her who immediately humphed when he caught her gaze and turned to leave.
A second later Hermione regained her grasp on her somewhat dazed thoughts, and staggered after the man. "No, wait!" she called; who knew, this man might be her key to getting out of here. "Don't leave!"
But the man was disappearing into the forest, apparently collecting fire wood. But, as the determined creature Hermione was, she would not be shaken off so easily.
"Please sir! I mean you no harm. I am stuck here and well…I thought you could maybe help me."
The man whirled round indignantly. "Do you mean to tell me that you think I stay here of my own free will?! We are all stuck here child!"
"All? Are there more people?"
"No there are two: me and you, two. And now, if you'll excuse me…"
The man turned around to leave, but once again Hermione stopped him. "But wait, you're sure you don't know the way out?"
The man seemed to be losing either his patience or his resistance. Either way, he turned around with a sigh and said, "I did not say I do not know the way out, but the only way out is quite out of your reach. Believe me. if it were possible, I would have left centuries ago!"
"Centuries?" Hermione's desire to find her way home was quickly being replaced by curiosity. "When did you get stuck here?"
But the man already had his back towards her and was walking away. But Hermione was desperate for conversation, for human interaction. She ran forward and cut the man off placing a dainty hand on his forearm.
"Please?" her brown eyes pleading reminding the man of another pair of brown eyes he had known so long ago. "I have been here for two days, and already the solitude is driving me mad! You said yourself that you have been here for centuries; do you not wish for someone to talk to?"
The man shook her hand off and started back toward his cottage, but after a few steps stopped and said still facing his house, "Do you like tea?"
"Come again?" the question had been abrupt and caught Hermione off guard.
The old man turned around and began to shout, "Tea, child, dash it all! They still drink tea now a days don't the?" He seemed to be quite agitated.
"Oh, yes, I like tea."
His temper simmered and a faint smile broke its way through. "Good." And he turned leaving Hermione to decide whether she was supposed to follow or not. In the end, she figured that she was indeed supposed to follow him into the cabin and that it precisely what she did.
The cabin was cozy and rather warm and something gave Hermione the impression that the very walls were smiling. There was also an air of importance in the house that seemed to contradict its humble appearance. There was a small coffee table in the middle of the room with two large pillows on either side. The man seemed to be tending to something by the fire. When he turned around he was holding a tea tray.
"Great Scots child! Sit down!"
Hermione did as she was told keeping an eye on the man in front of her. His smile returned. Now would you like one lump or two?"
"Oh, no sugar please, just milk." She had the immediate impression that she had done something wrong as the man cast a sidelong suspicious stare at her.
"There is something funny about a young folk who does not want sugar." but he did pour in her milk and handed her the tea. Then he set about making his own.
"You know what we need?" he asked her. Hermione shook her head slowly. "We need a good cake, that's what we need." And almost immediately a rake appeared beside the table and tipped over knocking the man in the head on the way down.
"Ouch!" the man shook his fist at the air, "I said cake not rake!"
But a cake was not what they got. Instead the rake on the floor turned into a long black snake. Hermione jumped up from her pillow trying not to scream.
"No! Cake, CAKE! C-A-K-E!!"
This time it turned into a cake. The man smiled. "Good thing that there aren't too many nouns that rhyme with cake."
Hermione nodded thinking of what might have happened if the object had decided to be a lake. As good as the cake did look; she could not bring herself to eat anything that had once been a snake. Well, at least she knew why the man dressed so funny.
He was beginning to speak more freely now.
"You see, it has an odd sense of humor, and the longer you've been here, the more it wants to play. I tell you! when you first get here, it makes life seem so easy. But as time goes by, well, you get to expect anything!" He looked at the Hermione. "Now, what is it that you call yourself?"
"Uh, Hermione." The man was quite a sight, and Hermione was finding it hard to keep her mind on the conversation as opposed to his mannerisms.
"Hermione huh?" he bounced his head from one side to another as if considering something. "It's unique that's for sure, and it certainly is long enough. Although, it is a bit out there. Well, Hermione, you can call me George. Now, how did you get here?"
He certainly did jump from one point to another. "Well, I saw the globe and thought it was pretty, so I picked it up to get a better look, and the next thing I knew, I was here."
"Typical. Oh! It's shiny! I want to touch it! Bah!" his tone was mocking that was for sure. "Women!"
"Excurse me! But how did you get here then?"
"I did not get here. My wife did." A faraway look came to his eye and there was no doubt that his mind was not here with his body at the moment.
"Beautiful she was. Pale skin, dark hair, soft pink lips, and deep brown eyes in which you could see her soul. And she was sweet as candy. Never hurt a fly she didn't. There was not one mean bone in her body. And she was smart too. I think that was the reason that she stood out so much. Not afraid to tell you that you were wrong. Most women were afraid to speak out of turn, but not her. Not my Rosalind.
"It was the eve of her birthday, she was going to be fifty and I, ten years her senior, was going to throw her the best ball ever. And people from every where came. All of our friends; every witch and wizard in the country was there, and even some from foreign parts. Every one was dressed in the finest attire and had the time of their lives.
"It was the ball of the century! And it was all for my Rosy. I had never seen her look so lovely. Age could never have harmed her in my eyes. Every year she acquired only added to her splendor. Ah yes! Beautiful she was my Rosy!
"But I was a proud lad back then, and I had my share of rivals. There was one in particular who despised me with the deepest passion imaginable. He had hated me since we had been boys, and then as we matured his feelings deepened. As adults, our work lead us to a similar place, yet we would both take a different path. As his loathing for me increased, he came to wish my death. So he challenged me to a duel.
"I accepted the challenge against the will of many of my friends, but so young was I, and full of my own self importance, that I could not decline. We fought long and hard, and finally I had him down to where my last stroke would fell him. But as I stood there, I could not bring myself to kill him. Such was the difference between us. But, he did not want my mercy. He swore vengeance against me.
"On the night of the ball, my wife received an anonymous gift. As the optimist she was, the dangers of opening it never occurred to her. the moment she reached inside to take out the present, she was gone.
"And then he came to me. He told me what he had done, where my Rosy was. And how she would never again leave the snow globe. My anger fueled me and I almost let myself finish the deed I had once not been able to do. But he stopped me. he told me that he would make a deal. Trade my life for hers. Let her out and keep me in.
"And what could I do? I would not abandon my Rosy to an eternity of solitude for my crimes. So I helplessly agreed. And then he let me in and took my Rosy out. But he didn't even let me say good bye. No, farewell to my sweet Rosy. But I knew now that she could live. See her children and grand children. She would live the life that I could not.
"And here I have been ever since. No longer am I proud and haughty. I have learned my lesson. Now, I sit here for all eternity remembering what it felt like to hold my Rosy and gaze into her eyes. Yet I will never see her again. For here there is no way to die. There is no disease, you never want for food, and while you get older you cannot decay. Inside the snow globe, you cannot die. Not even by your own hand. Here is forever, an eternal prison in which you have nothing to do but remember how life once was.
"Oh how I miss you my Rosy!"
Hermione watched the man intently as he told his story wondering if the same hopeless fate awaited her.
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And that's all for now! I know how this is really really gonna end now, and I am happy to inform you that you will be happy that I am ending it happy! Woot! But it is 2:30 am and I must leave now!
I love all of my readers, and I apologize for the long time in between updates, but last week was truly beyond crazy. And as I promised, this one ends happy for u guys! ::hugs readers:: thank you for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!
If you like this fic try out Façade (warning: romance/angst/tragedy!) and Solitude ( a first person of Snape which I promise will get quite cool)
Don't forget to review!
~Atiannala