Chapter Twenty-Five: The Fears of Love
Right. Hope you all had a Happy Christmas and Wonderful start to a new year. Enjoy.
One of these days
I won't be afraid of staying with you
I hope and I pray
Waiting to find a way back to you
Cause that's where I'm home
What would you do if I could have you?
Oh if I could
I'd let you feel everything I'm thinking
Wouldn't that be nice?
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
I want you
But I'm not giving in this time
She had promised herself that she would never cry over a boy. She had promised herself she would never let it happen again. But she had broken her promises; each and every one of them.
Her bare hands quivered uncontrollably as they brushed lightly across the chilling stone walls, leading her closer and closer towards her destination. Her eyes burned with the tears that longed to break her barriers and escape down her reddened cheeks. Each breath was more difficult than the next as her throat seemed to have sealed itself up save for the tiniest air passage yielding her source of life.
"No, no." she whispered in desperation as her body at long last surrendered. Her knees weakened beneath her and she clung tightly onto the corner of the walls. Her cheek pressed flat against the stone and slowly, she slipped down, not caring that while doing so, the stone gradually shredded her delicate skin. The first tear at long last escaped, slipping its way down her face, deliberately cutting across her freshly inflicted wounds sending a biting, yet almost soothing pain coursing through her body. Following, came another, and another, and soon, she could no longer keep count of the traitorous tears that betrayed everything she'd ever struggled to keep herself safe from.
Her mind echoed with the cruellest words she could have ever wished to hear coming from his sweet lips. The very same that had uttered such loving, caring words into her ears. Her golden eyes drifted down towards where he had physically inflicted such pain upon her. Vivid still were his finger prints, almost white across her pale wrist; imprinted eternally alongside his words.
Solid footsteps rung out within the stone corridors as she lay outside her bedchamber. Closer and closer the footsteps neared her, but the lovelorn princess made no move to conceal herself. She was a wretched heap of nothingness crying over a stupid boy.
She never did bother figuring out who it was, but whoever she was, kneeled down next to her and without a moment's hesitation, embraced her as a daughter and began to stroke her hair lovingly, never uttering a single word.
xXx
Stoically she picked up the thornless flower. It seemed to lie mockingly upon her pillow, jeering at her upon her entrance. How he had navigated his way up here was far beyond her, but he had, and it made not a single difference in the way she felt about him. Inhaling deeply, she found herself drowning in a myriad of senses; resentment, anger, hurt, infidelity, and even regret. She regretted with every fibre of her little body that she'd forgiven him; that she'd fallen into his trap not once, but twice. Although, in spite of her resentment, she regretted not a moment they'd spent together. The way he had held her so intimately the first time at the Quidditch pitch, the way his oceanic eyes seemed to glimmer with warmth and happiness each time he glanced her way.
Their relationship had been short-lived, but it had meant the world to her. It pained her within to think that it was all over; that she had been the one to end it. But she knew—she knew it was right. She knew it was for the best; she did not love her—she didn't mean anything to him. Not if he could hold her so lovingly one moment, and speak such cruel words the next. She couldn't even fathom the things he must have said when she wasn't around. Tossing the pale pink rose aside as if it were nothing more than an old quill, Ginny groped blindly for her stuffed Niffler and clutched it to her chest. He'd given it to her on their fourth date. It was the most adorable thing in the entire world she'd found—with its feather soft fur, its glittering, black and amber eyes, and its sleek, pointed nose. They'd even named it together, Sammy, short for Samhain, to remind them always of the time when they'd first met. She'd never really liked the name, but it was symbolic and that was all that mattered.
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Its soft, ebony fur soon became damp beneath her cheek. She'd been crying for the past hour without even realizing it. Carefully, she set down the beloved Niffler and snatched her nightgown before walking hesitantly out of her room and slipped into the nearest prefect lavatory.
The tub filled with her favourite scents of lavender and mint. Flowing gracefully from the various taps were lovely violet and blue bubbles of assorted shapes and sizes. Awkwardly, she peeled off her uniform and plunged into the pool, drowning her fears and pain all at once, cleansing her heavy heart and soul. The perfectly heated waters caressed her every part, pricking at her raw cheeks sending a pleasant pain rippling across her face. With her eyes shut tightly, Ginny slowly sunk down, finally seating herself at the very bottom with her legs pulled up to her chest and her tears losing themselves within the sea around. Ever so slowly she felt the pain seep away along with her consciousness. Reaching far beyond her limits, the little red head at long last broke through the surface of the settled bubbles, rasping for air—and for life.
Eventually, Ginny waded over to the edge and selected a clean white sponge. With it, she began to scrub harshly at her skin, never ceasing until she had drawn blood. The Gryffindor watched contentedly as the tiny droplets dripped down her pallid skin staining it and finally dropping without a single splash into the foamy waters. Cautiously, she swirled the water around until there was no trace of the crimson liquid remaining.
With her dripping, wet body, Ginny slowly climbed out of the enormous bathtub, wrapping a claret-red towel around her body and turned to watch as the now impure waters slowly drained away. She watched until there was nothing left, and then turned away, losing herself within the thick mass of steam that had built up within the room.
The words "Good bye" echoed faintly across the room, but she was nowhere in sight.
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
xXx
The cool breaths of night air breathed gently across his cheeks as if in an attempt to soothe his contorted mind and heart. As Professor Trelawney had 'predicted' in transfiguration that afternoon, the moon and stars were absent from the midnight ocean of never-ending black. His whole world seemed to be one large black hole. Swallowing up everything around him and eventually, dragging him kicking and screaming, slowing being torn up into miniscule bits, swirling towards the dark vortex. He'd have died long before he could have reached it; never to discover what was beyond the darkness. The raven-haired boy sighed solemnly into the air, his warm breath evanescing into the black of his surroundings. Tightly, his fingers gripped onto the icy, stone balcony and he stared down at the emptiness beneath him. It seemed bottomless in the night, like he'd fall forever and ever. The twisted emotions he felt within were undoubtedly comparable to the sensation of an eternal drop. Perhaps…..just perhaps it would be better.
Never before this very time had he ever contemplated such a terrifying issue as suicide, although somehow, he doubted that he would actually die if he fell anyway. The notion tickled his insides rather uncomfortably.
But before he could give suicide another thought, his ears perked up suddenly as he caught sound of movement from behind him. His heart stopped momentarily, caught within his throat. A small part of him had known she would come up here tonight, and that very same part of him had urged him to come. Slowly, he turned around.
It was her—but not as he had expected.
xXx
"Are you ready to talk about it now?"
Feeling listless, the princess raised her head from the bosom of her handmaid and gratefully embraced the woman. Leaning back after sometime, she began to peel off the stray hairs that had glued themselves onto her cheeks which were covered in a film of dried, sticky tears. "I don't know," she whispered in reply.
Hestia was greatly saddened by the pitiful excuse for a girl that sat next to her. What once was a strong, brave woman now seemed a lonely, distressed little girl. She was nothing as she was before. It pained her to see her friend in such a state. "Talk, unburden your heart, my dear."
Hermione sat silent as she mentally flipped though what had troubled her so. It hurt to relive it all—once was more than enough, and forever imprinted into her mind was more than what she could ever endure. "I was weak. I am weak. I let myself fall for him—when I knew exactly what he was capable of doing—when I knew exactly what he was capable of reverting back into…"
The copper-haired maiden looked thoughtful for a moment; the expression that graced her features seemed far beyond her years. "Mmm…male troubles. Lord knows those creatures are wicked…Lord Adonis, no?"
Her eyes widened in mild astonishment. "How did you guess?" she asked, sincerely curious, brushing back her tousled, frizzy hair.
A soft chortle came in reply, "It wasn't too difficult to piece together I'm afraid. Tell me, do you normally spend ten minutes beneath the dining tables searching for your napkin, Princess?"
Where she should have begun to blush furiously, Hermione merely frowned, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill in remembrance of that incident. She could still vividly recall his warm, enticing touch against her skin, but thinking of his touch also reminded her of how he had held her just over an hour before. "No, I suppose not. We were that obvious?"
The corners of Hestia's lips tilted upwards, and the light dimples that dented her rosy coloured skin appeared on either sides of her face. "Oh, I could see the way you gazed at him…nothing like when you'd been with Hadrian. Your eyes actually began to glitter, and your cheeks became flushed….you were undoubtedly comparable to a painted china doll. And then, there was the way Lord Adonis looked at you when he suspected you weren't aware. I saw within his gaze lust…desire….but also concern…caring. It seemed very much to me like he loved you."
Hermione's body stiffened and her blood ran ice cold. Love…Love was not something she had ever considered while she had been with Draco. She never once saw a future with him. Not in reality, and certainly not here. Their relationship had been doomed since the beginning. Nothing had gone right. It seemed the Gods were never in favour of the two lovers. "He never loved me" she said quietly, staring intently at the ground. "One cannot say they love someone if they can hurt the one they love so badly."
The girl nodded, fully aware of the fact that it seemed the princess wished to speak no more of the subject. "I have one last question then, Princess." Hermione glanced up at her. "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'you always hurt the one's you love most'?"
She never did get the chance to answer for at that moment, the seamstress seemed to have finally heard their presence outside the door and rather irritably shooed Hermione inside, noticeably annoyed with the fact that they were now over an hour behind schedule.
xXx
Her wide eyes stared fixedly at him, but the remainder of her lacked virtually any emotion whatsoever it seemed. His viridian orbs drifted meticulously from her hair that glowed a brilliant crimson even in the night, across her pale, freckled cheeks and down her frayed, white nightgown that cut off half way down her calves to reveal bare feet nested within fuzzy purple slippers that appeared to have been a size too big.
Hesitantly, he drifted back towards her face, and into her eyes. He was lost for words. A ridiculous perception within his mind had had him thinking she would have been tear-stained, an utter wreck—begging to come back to him—begging him to take her back. But instead, she seemed oddly composed and unfazed; uncaring of the entire matter.
"Ginny" he said finally, clenching his fists tightly in nervousness. She merely stared at him, unresponsive. "I—I—you don't know how sorry I am, Ginny." Blaise continued, filling with a slight bit of wavering confidence as she had not yet turned away. Still, she stood before him, seemingly undeterred. "Ginny, I—I—love you."
At his words, Ginny's lips thinned and pressed tightly together. Her shoulders shook with utmost fury. It took every bit of willpower she possessed not to smack him hard and clean across his face at that very point. "Love—" she spat coldly, taking a step closer towards him. "Love—what do you know about love, Zabini?" She took another step closer, "tell me, won't you please? Because so far, I've gotten the impression that love—love is hiding your relationships from the world, love is lying about being with someone, love is tearing her heart out and then, oh yes, doing it all—over—again." Her voice was not laced, but smothered in venom that would shred your insides and kill you internally from the moment the fangs pierced your skin. She now stood an inch away from his face, glaring dangerously, her hands clenching the fabric of his shirt, poised to kill—or at the very least maim gruesomely. "Tell me, Zabini, ANSWER ME." Her words rung throughout his ears, echoing non-stop within his mind. Her breath was hot against his skin, and her eyes burned with a fire he'd never imagined.
His breath trembled. He may have been several feet above her, but at the present, he felt no bigger than a flobberworm. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I really, truly am. I want to be with you. I really do" he whispered, not daring to touch her.
Mirthless eyes narrowed before him, "You don't know what you want" she snapped acrimoniously, never moving an inch.
"But I do" he said firmly, looking deeply into her eyes as to ensure her his words were nothing but the truth. "I want, you."
The little Gryffindor blinked twice, the slowly placed a hand upon the side of his cheek. Gently, her thumb made small circles along his lower jaw. Carefully, he placed his hand upon her own. But the very second his fingertips brushed hers she thrust it off and stepped back from him. Before the Slytherin could comprehend the girl's actions, Ginny had smacked him vehemently across his face, leaving a stinging burn across her own palm. His eyes locked onto her own, within them, he found loathing...and fear. Her body trembled with anger, like a bomb on the verge of exploding. "I've told you once, and I won't tell you again—I never want to see you—ever again." And she left, turning her back on him; quite possibly forever.
The astonishment had yet to manifest itself within him as he stood numbly in the very same place for hours past the break of dawn; his face still throbbing and his heart still breaking endlessly, forevermore.
xXx
One of these days
I won't be afraid of staying with you
It was a silly idea. It had been long past Samhain even! But he was desperate; and when one was desperate, one did rather stupid things. Many summers past, his grandfather whom was Celtic had told him of a sort of ritual that could be performed to get guidance in solving certain situations. Blaise recalled that his grandfather had called them 'dreaming stones'. It was nearing the crack of dawn, and the sky had lightened somewhat since he'd been inside the astronomy tower. He rubbed his hands together furiously for warmth as the icy wind tore through his skin. The air was cold, the wind was harsh and he had forgotten his cloak, but he couldn't have cared less. Determinedly, the boy strode across the grounds down towards the Great Lake. The faint reflection of Selene was rippled atop the blackened waters, like glittering shards of a broken mirror. Gingerly, Blaise kneeled down upon his knees and shut his eyes tightly, praying that the Giant Squid was fast asleep as he should have been. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his left hand into the arctic waters and with his middle finger and thumb he gathered three stones, whilst he chanted, feeling somewhat foolish, the incantation:
"Togaidh mise chlach,
Mar a thog Moire da Mac,
Air bhrçh, air bhuaidh, 's air neart;
Gun robh a chlachsa am dhòrn,
Gus an ruig mi mo cheann uidhe."
His hand dripped with icy water, but tightly, he held the stones. A strange warmth emitted from within the pebbles, but soon died. Blaise had no idea if it had worked or not as he had never done this before. Hurriedly, he sprinted back into the castle and slipped the stones beneath his pillow the moment he reached his dormitory. Without bothering to removing his robes, the dark haired boy dove beneath the covers and cocooned himself within his flannel blankets uttering the words, "Please, please help me find a way to win her back…"
If I could
I'd let you feel everything I'm thinking
In the morning he would know.
xXx
"What a gaudy coloured wedding dress." Hermione remarked rather blatantly as the seamstress aided her in lashing the laces together. "And why do I need so many?"
Presently, the princess donned the dress that had been deemed her wedding gown. The upper part consisted of a rather plain, white short sleeve that rounded slightly at the shoulders and the lower part was a long, fanned skirt with splashes of reds, oranges, blues and yellows across the fabric which cut off just before her ankles.
"This isn't your wedding dress. Your wedding gown is over there." She said pointing to the dress that sat on the mannequin. Hermione admired the dress. It was undeniably lovely. The gown had been beautifully embroidered with a trail of ruby blossoms, winding down one sideto the very edge of her skirt. The bodice was made of a fine blood-red velvet with a less than modest neckline, but definitely far from Pansy-style. The sleeves clung to the skin until it reached the elbows and flared off elegantly. It appeared to have been made of a fine off-white satin silk which tastefully matched the coloured of the flowing skirt. "This is your day-wear. Prince Hadrian insisted that you have as many made here a possible for the tailors in Spain are not quite as good as they are here" she said smugly. "You must blend in with the Spanish royals. You did not expect to dress as you do here do you? The Spaniards would not be very pleased with that." The seamstress chided, now starting to hem the bottom of her skirt.
Hermione frowned. "Why would I care about the tailors in Spain?" she said innocently oblivious. "And why would it matter if I blended in with the Spanish royals or not? There are none here save for the prince and his majesty."
The elder woman stared at Hermione for a moment as if trying to see if she was truly that ignorant. "Well I suspect you would care, Princess for I do not expect you to live on these gowns for the rest of your life. And of course there are none here. But there are in Spain. They all expect you to dress like them. –Will you cease fidgeting?! –and besides, the locals won't be very pleased if their princess is dressed as an outsider now."
She choked upon hearing the woman's words. "Their princess?! You mean I'm—I'm…."
"—You're moving to Spain."
A/N
Ahhh Well? Slightly shorter chapter I know…but oh well.oh, right note, gimped up formatting, so...pretend to understand it!
Dreaming Stones are in fact some sort of…ritual? It's supposed to give you guidance in your dreams on Samhain night. Just something neat I found…
oh, here's the English translation. (If anyone can actually read it and it's wrong...i did NOT write it so...yes, feel free to correct me!)
'I will lift the stone
As Mary lifted it for her Son,
For substance, virtue, and strength;
May this stone be in my hand
Till I reach my journey's end'
Songs by: Michelle Branch – One of These Days and Good Bye to You, two of my all time favourites….but All I Wanted is still the best…
