Kyle walked through the greenhouses trying to find solace. He wandered from plant to plant absently checking their progress while searching for the place he wanted to rest. He finally found a quiet spot where he wouldn't be near any of the dangerous plants.
It was a small clearing with an oversized worktable and a pair of stools. He paused staring for a moment at the stools before ruling them out and lowering himself to the ground. He rested his back against the sturdy table leg and felt the cool comfort of the packed dirt floor beneath him. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, content for the moment to do nothing.
Soon he felt more settled and remembered the present Liz had given him. He fished through his pocket and pulled out the new journal and the quill she'd loaned him.
He opened the journal and read, Please whisper password twice to set. He leaned forward and whispered twice, "Will Smith Burger."
Thank you. Your password is set.
He turned to the first page and stared at the stark, empty page as a myriad of images and feelings from the encounter washed over him again. He took the quill and began to write.
She's alive.
I finally find this out five years, eleven months and ten days after she left, but who's counting. She's a witch. No, literally.
I can't believe I saw her. Oddly enough she seemed shocked that I'm a wizard. And who the hell hit her? She had a fresh black eye and seemed to be stooping a little. Is she in danger? Why do I care?
Maybe I should take a lesson from Michael Guerin back home and be a "stonewall." Or was that "mud?" Maybe it was "mud wall?" Who knows? But everybody knows he's had a rotten life and yet he doesn't seem to care. Right about now not caring is looking pretty good to me. She's my mother, so what? She left.
What was it she said when I was yelling at her, that I had shown no signs of having magical abilities. Would she have left if I had? Or would she still have left but dragged me with her? What would Dad have done then? He barely survived losing just her. I'm glad he didn't lose me too.
And why now? How am I going to be able to concentrate for the Transfiguration test on Monday? Thankfully, I finished my Potions essay last night.
Oh, Why did I tell her that I wished she were in Hell?
Suddenly, the page blurred beyond recognition and he felt like the abandoned child again as the tears burned in his eyes. He gave up trying to force them back, and for the first time since his mother had left he allowed himself to cry. He didn't bother to wipe at the tears, he just let them fall freely. The nearby plants leaned in and caught some of them on their leaves.
One of the plants to his left, a Mourning Begonia, began weeping with him. Ruby red tears dripped from its flowers looking like a bleeding heart. It was beautiful, grotesque and sympathetic all at once.
Later, he fell asleep, all cried out, still resting against the table leg.
Hermione fidgeted anxiously after dinner in the common room. Everyone was back except for Kyle. And he hadn't shown up for dinner either. She tried playing chess and lost terribly to Harry. Finally she decided to speak to Liz about it.
"Liz, I hate to ask this but are you sure that Kyle came back from Hogsmede? It's half an hour until curfew and he isn't here. I wouldn't be so worried but he skipped dinner and he never does that," she asked.
Liz smiled slightly thinking of the sparks she'd seen between the two in the past couple of weeks. Then she frowned as she thought of the ordeal that Kyle had gone through that day. Suddenly she remembered that he hadn't been wearing his watch today. She looked back at Hermione and seemed to form a plan. She answered, "He did come back from Hogsmede but he had kind of a rough day there so went straight to the greenhouses. But he may have lost track of time because he wasn't wearing his watch. Do you want me to go down there and make sure he gets back in time?"
Hermione hesitated, "No, I'll go down there and bring him back. What happened that was so bad?"
"You'll have to ask him. It's not my secr… um, story to tell," Liz answered and then turned back to her Potions essay.
"I will. Thank you," Hermione said before leaving.
A few minutes later she nearly stumbled over him before she saw him. He was sleeping still propped up against the table leg. She studied his face and saw the remnants of the tracks of the tears. She saw the collection jar under the nearby Mourning Begonia was nearly full. What trial could he have suffered through at Hogsmede to cause this kind of grief? she asked herself.
Her hand reached out of its own free will to touch his cheek, her thumb gently rubbing across the tear track to remove the evidence.
His eyes flew open, but he didn't move except for a small, tired smile. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a hoarse whisper.
Hermione blushed, her heart pounding but she answered as truthfully as she dared, "I, um, I was worried when you didn't make it back for dinner and was afraid that you wouldn't make it back in time for curfew. Liz said you didn't have your watch."
"How did she…? Oh that's right I must have asked them a dozen times if we were going to be late to meet you at the pub," he said then his eyes darkened and his face seemed twist a little in pain as he remembered the rest of the day.
Her heart ached to see that trace of pain. She wanted to take the pain away but she knew she couldn't. Her other hand moved to gently rub out the tear tracks on the other side instead while she said quietly, "Liz said you'd had a rough day."
He nodded and said, "I did. I'll tell you about it sometime soon. But I need to work it out a little more in my head and write to my dad before I do."
When she started to pull her hands back he realized what she must have been doing. He reached up and captured her hands in his for just a moment. He gave her a grateful smile and thanked her.
"Oh that? It was nothing really," she lied, blushing again.
And then he was standing beside her putting a book in his pocket. "Yes, it was," he said firmly.
Then he leaned over and kissed her right cheek, causing her to blush furiously.
He led the way when they began walking back to the castle. They were quiet, both wishing that the kiss had been a little further to her left.