Author's Note: Hi everyone again! Well, I'm very happy about this and the quite response the story has, so I thought about continuing it! So, here's another mising moment from hp6, which I hope you all like!
So, I'll let you read now... Enjoy! :)
~Eeriness Of The Place And Quite Eerie Myself~
I'm gazing out of the slightly dirty window for what seems to be slow-passing hours- time has probably abandoned the place long time ago. I exhale the air from my weak lungs noisily but my pupils remain glued on some spot outside the room, yet giving so little thought to the dull scenery… Almost everything seems dull after that night…
Grimauld Place can be easily considered as a spooky place and just to make things clear: I think the assumption is downright accurate. So, living in such a place, even temporarily, once again isn't a very good way for a group of restive souls to recover from such a blow; yet, we all manage to undergo with it, somehow.
Christmas' day was quite the disaster this year; I couldn't bear to face all of my family and friends after what happened. Every single person seems to be in a personal hell at the time being, and of course, I'm no exception of this, but quite the opposite: I'm the only one who also has to suffer from the bodily wounds. Yeah, while my little 'adventure' inside the house, I did a rather good job getting some really nasty injuries: at the top of the right side of my forehead, I have a pretty deep gash because of my head making contact with the corner of the step. Moreover, bruises cover most of my lanky body- with legs being the most honored- and little cuts from glass take now company to the many millions of freckles- the red colour seems to adore me…
But despite all these, two things, with zillions of offspring, seem to tease me more: my malfunctioning breathing, which has still had a hard time recovering after the tons of poisonous air I inhaled that night, and secondly, my heart, which still cannot find a calmer pace to keep on with; of course, I can't blame it about it.
Well, as said, Christmas wasn't one of my best… Nightmares will hunt me almost every night, so I have almost completely forgotten the actual meaning of rest. During daylight, I feel probably devastated, because the feeling of being actually homeless is still very raw to grasp it fully; I think of those stupid clichés about family being one's home and 'where family is, is also your home', but I think this is a load of worthless rubbish- I'm roughly sure that the git who thought of the quote must have a nice, cozy castle to live in… so much for family, really…
Yeah, I know that bitterness possesses the best of me, that I once again speak before thinking, but who can really blame me now? Life and fates found it once more funny to hit us mercilessly, like we deserve to pay for the entire world's sins. I surely cannot speak for myself, but I could never think of one person of my family who could deserve even a tiny fraction of what we all have to deal with every now and then: constant, bloody poverty and humiliation because of our beliefs, our situation or even our physical appearances, for Circe's sake!
I sigh again, because all this weight seems to sit arrogantly on my chest; I frankly want this to go away, because I think I've totally lost the sense of being a hormonal teenager like I'm supposed to. Life appears to be crueler to us just because we are wizards… bloody justice and all…!
I feel the headache approaching and I want to struggle someone so all this pain and frustration would go away- you know, even though I'm slightly more mature than last year, I still can't handle all these things; glee and innocence look as if they have dumped me and I sit here, trying to tame all the things I shouldn't face. Now I'm probably able to merely reckon how Harry feels with all his dark past chasing him… poor Harry…
The shots of pain above my left eye are eventually making their appearance and I know for sure that I, once again, forgot to take the potion I should have. I cough painfully as I stand up clumsily and make my departure from the rather cold, quiet room, making my way with my dragging feet upstairs, to the room Harry and I share. I try to be a bit faster, just because the pain starts to become quite insufferable, but my feet and legs are protesting too and I swear between my gritted teeth. I feel like an old man who can't even take a step without moaning… Dim-witted werewolf and barmy bitch for making us like this…
I finally reach our bedroom and I exhale with some relief- at least the bathroom is in the same floor, so I don't have to climb another stupid staircase. I open the door and I see Harry being inside, sitting on his bed and reading something with some interest. Despite the pain, I cluck my tongue and I'm so very ready to tease him for reading once again from this wrecked potion book.
"What're you doing here, mate?" I say light-heartedly, feeling a bit better when I'm with my best-friend. I see his head shooting up abruptly and his eyes are quite wide at the moment; he seems like he didn't realize my appearance or that he isn't quite comfortable with my appearance for some reason. I just chuckle to myself, because after the dreadful incident, I can get really depressed and barmy myself. I step closer, looking curiously at him and I realize that in his hands isn't the prince's book, but some scraps of parchment; I eye him more curiously now.
"Oh, hi Ron" I hear him saying to me, his tone a bit unsteady and underlining the formerly said uneasiness I was suspicious about existing. I unconsciously feel my eyebrow shooting up and I step even closer, my eyes traveling from his nervous face to his somewhat trembling hands and back on. "I didn't expect you here".
I chuckle at his, a bit ridiculous, words. "This is my room, too, mate and I need to take my potion before laying and tossing on the floor like a fish out of water" I tease him and laugh lightly with my own little joke- who says that a weary existence cannot crack a tiny joke every now and then? "So, what are you reading there? It doesn't look like your new, little buddy, half-blood prince, does it now?" I ask half-curiously, half-jokingly, most probably because I cannot understand from where this odd behaviour of his comes. I observe his face, seeing his eyes widen more behind his round glasses; as for his full hands, they instantly go behind his back, not letting my eyes to examine the piece of parchment more.
"Nothing! It's really nothing" he says a bit too quickly, which seems rather suspicious, if you want my humble opinion. I take another tiny step closer to his bed, my eyes never leaving his face as my eyebrows come closer to each other, showing him clearly my doubt. "Really, Ron, it's nothing important" Harry says and I recognize some plead in his tone. I was really about to shrug it off, but my curiosity and some other, weird instincts of mine take the best of me, so I can't drop this now. My mind is so interested at the time being and I can hear it over my screaming heart, which tells me that I should prefer ignorance at the moment.
"Your face doesn't tell—" I say rather cheekily but my words are abruptly stopped and are now lost in midair, as my eyes are resting now at some place on the mattress of Harry's bed, where an open envelope rests innocently. I unconsciously take a step closer as my eyes widen and recognition hits me more hard that I would ever want to admit…
Her neat handwriting…
I stop abruptly doing anything, my eyes never leaving the envelope from their sight. Then, realization hits me even harder.
"She" I swallow hard because I never understood that a lump was on my already sore throat, "…She wrote you, didn't she?" I ask him totally dumbfounded, my eyes almost out of their weak sockets; my heart was so right…
I see Harry gulping hard and he seems very nervous, but his feelings of edginess cannot possibly reach my levels of sadness and hurt. He seems defeated as he whispers a soft and a bit apologetic 'yes'; well, he surely cannot hear my heart's sorrowful cries.
"Why so apologetic all of a sudden, Harry?" I say with my husky voice, which actually seems to be in the verge of cracking, but I try to hold it back; I cannot let myself get more humiliated. "You surely did nothing wrong"
Harry looks like he's in pain as he frowns a bit, but he certainly cannot understand the pain I feel; no one can, for the matter.
"Listen, Ron…" Harry starts in a sort of defensive tone, but I'm not able to listen. My heart is burning again from the acid and my eyes are stung from the liquid that threatens to make its appearance- I won't let my friend see me like this.
"It's ok, mate; she's your friend and she sent you a letter- what's wrong with that?" I cut him off with my slightly upset tone; I want to yell but I just hold it back. I try to inhale deeply, just to prevent the shaking from coming, the tears from drowning my eyes, but how much can I endure this? I believe I'm not one for mild feelings.
"I have to go…" I finally tell him, the bloody piece of paper sends me over the edge and even though I obligate my eyes to look away, they just don't follow my orders- I'm so pathetic at times.
I swiftly turn around and make my way towards the half-open door, the potion totally forgotten; headache seems like a piece of cake to cope with right now.
"Ron, wait—" I hear Harry protesting behind me, but I don't wait. How can I possibly wait? And wait to hear what, exactly? Reassuring words that mean nothing? Comforting that is only a meager cover for the huge truth I don't want to admit? No, I don't desire pity or phantoms of false hope. I can't wait- I simply yearn to be absolutely alone and that's what I'm doing.
I reach an empty room without much thinking of what it is- useless details as these ones mean nothing to me now. I slam the door shut behind me, finding no other physical way to let out my immense pain. I feel the whole room shuddering for a second because of my motion and then stillness, exactly the opposite of what happens inside me: a torturing situation that leads to nowhere.
I approach the dirty window on the other side of the room with dragging steps- how I manage the one moment to be furious and the next one being all miserable is quite inexplicable, but I go along with it. I see outside unwillingly, gazing at the brightness of the snow and thinking of the darkness that dominates in me and I suddenly feel… vanquished….
The so loud sigh of mine breaks the grave-like silence easily, but my chest appears to be as heavy as it was, no weight to lift away from my soul. Then I abruptly think of her smile and the image in my head, instead of shooing the pain away, attracts it like a powerful magnet. How can she do this to me?
The poisonous liquid behind my eyes is protesting again, but this time I let it make its embarrassing appearance- it makes no difference to me now. My heart is shouting the things my lips cannot even let out, making me feel more miserable and at the same time, angry. I cannot anymore even understand myself and that's also added to the pile of things that are hurtful this period of time.
And the only thing that manages somehow to escape from my sealed, cold lips is a choked-out sob.
She really sent a letter to Harry… Yeah, I know that there's no crime in the particular action, but try to tell my heart so- its wild protests make my entire body shuddering and with shame I feel some hot tears coursing down my freckled and scarred cheeks. She really dared to send a letter to Harry…
She should have known that I would see it- I'm also his best friend, after all! How can she do this? Doesn't she know that it hurts so bloody much that I cannot stand it; she's supposed to be smart and this movement seems so very stupid from her part- or vindictive, but I don't want to think of the prospect. I firmly shut my eyelids, because I don't dare to face the reality- I'm a youngster, for Merlin's sake and despite my gender, my heart is still a sensitive organ that can't deal with too many things, especially when these things have to do with Hermione Granger.
The image of hers behind my eyes is brilliant, yet painful; my existence wants her desperately but she makes it clear with any way possible that I'm nothing to her. I'm really nothing.
More tears… More pain, if that's possible… More embarrassment… yet, so much more desperation for her…
I'm thirsty and I want to savour her like there's no tomorrow. I'm a sinner and I yearn for my angel to take my hand and bring me back to heaven. I'm totally insane and I crave my sanity back…
I'm obsessed… I want her more than everything… but I know I won't have her.
There is no tomorrow.
My eyes are now like fountains of salty, liquid bitterness and my half-open lips a source of despair; I now fully understand that if I'm not able to have her, then I worth nothing. The mere thought drives me more crazy and miserable and I fall on my knees, expecting for some sort of atonement that I know will never come to me. I'm a bloody source of desolation.
All because of my obsession for her… A catastrophic mania labeled as 'love'…
I want to hate her, just because I love her.
"Come on, Ron, Harry! It's time for dinner!"
The sound of my mum's voice brings me back to reality- a reality I don't desire to participate in anymore. I stand up inelegantly and my hand quickly goes on my face, hurriedly wiping away the trickles of water and at the same time all the evidence of my ache; as for the proof in the depths of my eyes, it will be covered with my cast-down looks and my innocent lying. That's all I need.
I'm rather satisfied that I didn't run into Harry during my short way downstairs; the two of us alone would inevitably bring too much awkwardness up and I don't need that right now. The creaking noises from beneath my shoes make me less numb by the flowing of the seconds, until I reach the kitchen, where everyone waits for me so they can start eating. I glance at them indifferently as they stare at me with so much interest. I want to vomit because I can't stand the attention- not now, not at this dreadful state.
"Oh, Ron dear, you came" I feel my mum's voice reaching my eardrums and my heart clenches a bit as a response; this dull, almost lifeless tone of hers makes me feel awful, because the catastrophe of our house affected my parents the most. I just sit down without saying a word, and coincidentally I sit across Harry. I dare to glance at him from between my thick eyelashes and I see that he's looking at me somewhat observantly, a quite sorry expression still on his face. I look down, as I don't want to risk our poorly acquired tranquility.
I pick at my food absentmindedly as my mind is totally elsewhere. I feel mum's eyes on me and I'm quite sure of the reason: she must have seen my blood-shot eyes when I came, she must have noticed the lack of appetite from my part and she must have observed my desire to not talk to anyone. She's a mother and these weird instincts of her nature can make her understand everything about her children.
I doubt she can understand my hurt feelings.
I think back again at the one person who can so easily put me in a whirl of unruly emotions and immediately want to smile and cry at the same time. I do nothing of the two and I keep poking on my food as my mind imagines the bottom of my trunk, where a so small packet is hidden- and I'm quite sure it'll be hidden for a very long time. I inhale deeply as I stare unconsciously at the mashed-by-me piece of meat, while thinking of the gift I won't ever give to Hermione. Yeah, I know, someone would probably tell me that I'm totally crazy, spending money to take a gift for a girl that doesn't speak to me at the time being, but my heart wouldn't do otherwise; she's too important for me as to not take her a present- even though she most probably will never receive it.
It's a silver bracelet with a tiny pearl on its centre; nothing too expensive, way too simple and probably to be taken unnoticed, yet I somehow liked it when I saw it, because it was quite different, yet plain, just like her. I know that I sound probably ridiculous, but well, I also know that I'm not very good at this sort of stuff, yet I did my very best to find something good for her. Pity she'll never see it…
I didn't understand when dessert appeared in front of me, but I recognize it'll have the same fate with my uneaten meal (it was touched, though…). During this numb process, I have a very strange clue that most of the people in the room are looking at me, trying to identify my mood by my mechanical motions, but I'm too emotionless on the outside now to pass them any hint. I'm also too restless on the inside to think a moment more about this.
Suddenly, sounds from outside take everyone's attention away from me and even though my pupils are still being glued on the pudding before me, I realize that it's an owl waiting outside the window that makes the sounds; my brain's blacked out after that again, returning back to its helpless state.
"Ron, won't you go and see who sends you the parcel?"
My eyes finally focus, after hours really, on something. If I'm correct, someone called my name and I jerk my head, looking at everyone in the room like a lost man; well, that's not entirely metaphorical in my case now, isn't it?
Everyone looks back at me with quite worried expressions in their eyes; I try to ignore the signals, because more guilt in my soul will make me explode. I focus on my mum, who appeared to be the one who talked.
"It's Pig, Ron; won't you go and open the window?" she talks to me once more and all I do is staring at her quite confusingly. I belatedly understand the meaning of her words and I look behind my back, where indeed, on the other side of the slightly fogged window, my tiny owl is waiting, ticking his beak softly on the glassy surface. I stand up rather quickly and go in front of the window, opening it fast. The wintry gust comes instantly my way and engulfs my body in a matter of milliseconds- my soul is already surrounded by coolness, unsurprisingly- and Pig enters the kitchen, letting me close the window hurriedly. Then, I rather expectantly look up to the bird, which finds it once again essential to show off and fly over everyone's head before finally landing on my shoulder. I pet him a bit before finally taking the small packet from his leg and after another stroke on the minute head, I feel his almost non-existent weight away from my body; it is then when my eyes finally drop on the object in my hands but a moment later, I am still emotionless and still.
"Well?" I hear Fred's voice breaking the unreasonably heavy silence of the room- the attention seems to be again on me and I ensure the presumption as I look up to them all; everyone looks at me with interest.
"It's from Lavender" I just say to them and I hear my own voice being quite hoarse and nasal. I gaze at the whole of them with a slightly defeated look, not exactly knowing how to feel about the situation. As response, I see some nodding, some still looking at me with interest, some frowning at the mention of the name- I don't blame them, because sometimes I want to do so myself. "I… I think I'll go upstairs; excuse me" I finally say almost under my heavy breath and without waiting for any sort of reply, I make my departure, feeling a little relieved for being out of the room; isolation sometimes has the tendency to cure faster.
I go to my and Harry's room, closing the door behind me after reaching it. I let the parcel falling on my bed, not really impatient to open it and letting all her girly-ness spread out. Taking my time, I take all the potions I should have by now and after changing into my pajamas, I get under the warmth of the blanket, my eyes now resting on the neglected packet. I sigh, knowing that I should just open it and end with it, so I take it in my hands, hesitating for a moment before opening it. At first, I find a letter of hers, on it many 'thank's, 'I love you's, 'kisses' and 'I miss you's that make me feel quite nauseous, but I keep going. She also said that she adored my gift and that she was never going to get rid of it and other similar rubbish I want to forget about. After that, I take a glance into the wrapped packet, where her gift for me was supposed to be, but I take my eyes away from it with lightning speed, looking at the wall opposite me with wide eyes full of disgust and terror. I just hope someone cast some memory spell on me, because I don't want to remember this. I throw it under my bed without a second thought and I make the letter a ball in my fist before trying once to successfully throw it in the bin on the other side of the room; then, my brain falls in its deliberating state.
For Lavender's gift, I went to a store and picked a perfume up randomly, not even getting in the process of sniffing at it- it had a pinkish colour and I thought that it would do the trick. Of course, some remnants of mannerism still make me feel quite guilty about it, but let's be honest with myself: I don't want to be her boyfriend. Frankly, I never did, it was just all about hormones, spontaneity, stupidity and sourness that were taking the best of me after that fateful Quidditch match against Slytherin. It was always another girl that I wanted, and still want as a matter of fact, to be my girlfriend.
I swiftly hear the door creaking and I hurriedly wipe away the single tear that forgot to be shed during my earlier outburst- stupid proof of weakness...
The door closes and I eventually look up to see Harry in the room. My best friend looks at me with his eyes filled with mixed emotions, as I can make out: a bit of guilt, sympathy, a hint of numbness, reassurance…. I just stare back, even though I feel quite feeble from under his look. Finally, it is Harry who breaks the silent connection.
"I didn't know that you're turning in" he says gently, his tone casual so- as I can understand- it won't bring discomfort to any of us; I thank him silently for that.
"I forgot to take my potion earlier and the headache wore me out a bit" I just say, which is only half-a-lie; I'm terribly worn out, but the headache is only a minute factor. I see Harry glancing at me before nodding once and then starting to change in his pajamas. I lie completely on the bed and bring the covers up to my chin, the warmth welcome and quite calming after such a depressing day.
After some minutes, I hear the old mattress of the other bed squeaking a little and the light is even less from under my closed eyelids. I whisper my shaky goodnight to my only best friend and I hear him wishing me the same, even though I know that his wish will instantly go to the same place Lavender's letter went some hour ago. I sigh inaudibly as I turn on my side, trying to seduce sleep and making it fall for me, in the long run giving me some of its valuable time.
And while attempting to find out ways to attract rest, I also think of ways I'll never use to attract my bushy-haired angel.
-Oh... quite painful that one... Ron's full of soreness and sourness and I don't blame him... ;) Well, I just hope you all liked that.
-And now, I really hope you know what time is... time to give to the 'tired author' some valuable REVIEWS! I'd be delighted to know your opinion and if you want me to write more missing moments for this fic.
-Well, thanks for reading, once again! Until the next time... :) xxx