Dirt in the Ground
By:
Quixotic-Feline
" We can never see a table, because all we see is a shape or representation, but we believe there is a table because we believe the table causes the representation."-John Searle, Philosophy Prof. at UC Berkeley
THE DEAD, naked willows, with their massive arms and gnarled fingers, reached out sinisterly over the crumbling wall. Wicked black blurs were scattered in their twisted depths. Crows. Evil, black crows.
The sky was an ill shade of pale grey. The vague outline of the Moon weakly penetrated the sour fog, and spilt her glitter onto the lonely graves.
Graves. Old, rotted, crumbling, weed infested graves... And the new, gleaming, polished, pampered graves. Mere blocks of stone standing guard over the rotting corpses hidden away in dusty coffins.
The churchyard was deserted, save for the lone figure lying on a beautiful, entirely white marble grave.
It was a woman, with haunted eyes and a wistful smile lingering on her lips. She was whispering, her silver words carried away by the sympathetic wind.
"...He was so sad. So sad. I was sad, too," she was saying to the grave, slender fingers gently caressing the surface of the marble, like one would do on a lover's cheek.
"I've brought you a flower, as always," she whispered, and slowly took out a crimson rose from inside her coat. She twirled it around in her fingers, eyes swallowing it's elegance, before placing it delicately against the headstone.
Blaise Isaac Zabini
Died heroically and honorably in the Golden War, protecting the Light,
His memory will linger in the hearts of those who adored him.
"Death is not the worst than can happen to men."
The woman stared at these words, carved masterfully into the stone. They shimmered and gleamed in the dim moonlight, as if assuring her of their truth.
"He's home now. Sleeping. I slept with him, you know," she said. The wind, which had been shifting lazily near the ground, suddenly reignited it's energy and angrily swirled the dead leaves into the air.
The woman jingled with laughter.
"Oh, Blaise, get your head out of the gutter!" she scolded playfully. "I slept by his side. Not with him. He needed me."
The wind calmed, and the leaves rustled in what vaguely sounded like a sigh of relief.
"Silly kiddo. Anyway, what do you think of the Malfoys?" she asked. "I've already mentioned the wonderful furniture they gave me," she said.
The trees rocked in the wind, which was now accompanied with a bite of frost. The crows fled from their disfigured branches, shrieking as they did so.
"Don't trust them, huh?" she teased, but with a sad note to her voice. The wind slowed, and regained it's friendly warmth. It embraced her lovingly, playing with the hair she decided to curl this morning.
"I know you're only concerned about me. But, really, they're not bad. I don't completely trust them, either, but... they're okay." She smiled, leaning into the breeze.
"I must go now. I have to check up on George... I love you, kiddo," she whispered, and laughed as the wind howled, spinning and twirling and glittering with drops of autumn mist. Then, it calmed, and a single golden leaf floated down to rest on her cheek, brushing against her skin like a lover's kiss.
With a half sad, half goofily happy smile brightening up her face, Hermione Granger left the cemetery.
O o O o O
Hermione quietly eased the front door open, slipping in like a shadow. She carefully took off her heels and tiptoed over to her bedroom.
Creaking open the hand carved, ebony door, she peaked in through the gap. Lying in a tangled heap of covers and blankets, with a mop of bright red hair sticking out endearingly, was the slumbering form of George Weasley.
With a fond smile, she gently closed the door.
The sky was beginning to blush with the earliest rays of dawn. A faint, pink and orange tint colored the paleness surrounding to sinking Moon.
Hermione, sliding out of her coat, sunk into the nearest stool by the kitchen counter. She set the water to boil and prepared herself a buttered slice of bread, and a few sandwiches in case George stirred from his peaceful sleep.
A small pile of mail was waiting for her on the stove. With a weary sigh, she shuffled through the envelopes. Bill, bill, letter from Holly, bill, Zonko's advertisement, bill...
With mild interest, Hermione tore open her partner's envelope.
Hey, My'O!
You'll never guess what...!! I had lunch with Vitruvius Malfoy yesterday, to discuss some business, and as it turns out they have more furniture for us to take! I was ecstatic, of course, until I mentioned the fact that we didn't have enough room in our modest little shop. So Vitty Here Hermione paused to raise an incredulous eyebrow at the nickname suggested that we open up another H&H's in Hogsmeade! What do you think? Don't even worry about financial costs, Vitty and Drake said they have everything covered. Merlin, I'm so excited! Write back, pronto, My'O!!!!!
Xoxoxox,
Holly
Not knowing what to think, Hermione slid the letter back into it's envelope and took a bite from her bread, chewing thoughtfully. For some reason, Vitruvius's newly acquired nickname bothered her enormously.
At that moment, a very sleepy and very groggy Weasley stumbled into the kitchen.
"G'mornin', My'O," he croaked, flumping into the seat next to his host. With a moment's hesitance, he grabbed a sandwich and bit into it.
"Was' in de mail?" he asked through a mouthful of boloney and bread. Hermione smiled affectionately at him, casually nibbling on her breakfast. She handed him a glass of milk, which he took a huge gulp from gratefully.
"Nothing, really. Just a letter from Holly. Oh, Vitty and Drake Malfoy send you their love." She ducked, laughing, as a spray of milk soared over her head.
A/n: So short... But y'all know why by now, right? School. If I had more time, trust me, I would write more. But, see? I'm improving with my frequency!! Yay!!
Miss Piratess: Thank you! Fred and George are one of my favorite characters in HP, so I simply had to but at least one of them in. Even if it came out randomly. Oh, well. ;D
GrAyeyez: I hope this chapter will clear it some for you! )