Somewhere Out There: Learning to Lie
The call came two weeks later, rousing me from my sleep in the early morning. Then again, nine o'clock in the morning isn't really considered early, but I found falling asleep difficult nowadays. Nightmares plagued my dreams even now, years after the war, and what little sleep I had was a string of blissful insanity. However, I managed to be somewhat coherent, answering her questions and setting a time for later that day to be interviewed. I groaned as I looked at the clock, figuring out that if I wanted to be ready, I needed to pull myself out of bed.
My feet hit the floor with a loud thud and I trudged through the daily routine with as little passion as possible. Time had hit me hard, playing tricks on my age and appearance as I stared in the mirror at my pitiful reflection. Where my eyes used to be filled with life and energy, it seemed as if the bright amber color they used to be faded to a dull brown, dead as a torn branch from a tree, rotting in the midday sun. Dark circles ringed them faintly from lack of sleep; I finally understood what leading a double life did to a person. Age was little more than something to be covered up and hidden, cosmetics hiding what a soul could not. I looked at least five years old than I was. Reality was harsh, a livid bruise that lingers throughout time, and I was living it.
I didn't have enough money for cosmetics, the meager amount I had left going towards the rent that was close to being late, so I would have to make do. I brushed my unruly hair hastily as I tamed it back into a ponytail. I decided on a nicer pair of dark jeans and a dressy shirt for the interview, my pants a little loose from losing a few pounds. Eating on a budget did that to you after I while, I figured, but this job had it all for me. Glancing at the clock, I figured it was time to leave. Locking the door behind me, I walked down the steps with my little black loafers, and to the gleaming white goddess that would save me.
I found out quickly that what time I would spend there would be absolute hell. I walked in that day in my nice jeans and dressy shirt to a child screaming about her slushie, which was currently spraying bright green ice all over the floor from the cup's busted bottom, a line at the register back to the entrance, and to top it all off, as soon as I walked in, it started to rain…heavily. Secretly, I prayed that the rain wouldn't last too long, the child would stop screaming, and the green puddle would stop spreading so far and so fast. I waited patiently until the mother with the screaming child paid the bill and the line was gone before I went up to the counter.
The lady with the pursed lips and sharp eyes stood there, looking down at me. "How can I help you today?" she stated in a slightly nasal, high-pitched voice.
"Ma'am, I'm here for an interview with Amber. I'm Nell. Nell Johnson."
"I tell her you're here…" she trailed off with an accusatory glare at me, as if I was trying to take her job from her. I backed up a bit, a slight trace of fear in my eyes and she smirked at me, before turning to leave.
"Ummm…Ma'am?" She looked back, scowling at me with a frown on her lips. An image of Professor McGonagall flashed through my mind before I pushed it away, blinking tears away as it went. "Do you have a mop?"
Her face was confused for a moment before her eyes lit up. "The slushie!" she yelped before she ran back out of sight where seconds later I heard sloshing water. I guess they did have a mop. As I stood there next to the ever-growing puddle that was rapidly invading my shoe's space, I thought that the color would be much more appealing if it were darker. Soon enough, a door somewhere in the back opened and the lady emerged with the mop and bucket, pushing it towards the green-tinted floor. I held out my hands, gesturing to the mop handle, and the woman looked at me a little strangely before ringing it out and giving it to me.
"I can do that. It is my job."
"Yes, I know…but it's spreading onto my shoe. I would like to keep these shoes clean for as long as possible," I told her with a smile, which she returned, shocking me a bit. Her eyes were much less harsh when they scrunched up towards her eyebrows. Making a mental note to make her smile more often, I hastily cleaned off my shoe and was scrubbing the floor when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Startled, I jumped at least a foot, slamming my chin against the top of the mop handle. Rubbing my chin with watering eyes, I turned and looked into gray eyes.
"Hello. I'm Amber. You must be Nell. Sorry I startled ya."
Reaching for her extended hand, I grasped and shook it warmly. "It's alright. I was absorbed," I admitted, blushing faintly to my roots. Awkwardly standing there, mop handle in hand and pale face, I was sure that I made the perfect picture of a nobody, staring at my potential employer. I took the mop, placed it in the bucket, and gestured. "Do you want me to put that back first?"
"No, it's fine. Lynn can get it," she said, pointing at the older lady. "Follow me."
I followed her back into the office, sitting on a metal chair, hands and keys in my lap. She pulled out a questionnaire, having me fill it out along with all of my information again. She asked me questions during the process, having me describe some of the questions in more detail. Overall, I thought it was quite easy, answering the questions with confidence and precision. Finally, when I was finished, I handed back the paperwork and waited.
"You come with a very interesting recommendation, Nell Johnson. However, your answers surprised me and you seem to be a quick study. I think you would do well here. When could you start?"
My mouth gaped open as I stared at her. I'd expected at least another interview, possibly two, before I was even considered. I was overjoyed, yes, but as I closed my mouth sharply, I was also wary. She said I came with a "recommendation", but I knew no one in this town. It was a puzzle to me, my eyes narrowing a bit when she kept talking.
I asked her quickly, "What recommendation?" in my harshest tone, not caring if it lost me the job.
She faltered for a moment before saying, "Sadie. She gave you the recommendation from the day you were in here. She liked you and, since you'll be working mostly with her, I thought it would be best if I put together two people that got along. Sadie's very strong-willed, and while I think she is a wonderful employee, she is a bit harsh sometimes. You have a bit of steel in you, though. You'll need that to work in this place. Besides, I'm sure both of you will get along fine. What do you say?" she finished, echoing the thought and extending her hand. "Are you in?"
Somehow, I knew she was lying, but survival kicked in. In a town this small, I would find out soon enough. Mick had said gossip never stayed secret for long. I just had to wait it out, and with an inner smile, I had a feeling Sadie talked too much anyway. That used to be me, I frowned, always wanting to give the right answer first…how much I'd changed. Nodding to Amber, I extended my hand with a near-vicious smile.
"I am."
My next stop was the clothing store down the street. Amber told me I needed dark dress pants, but I didn't have any, so she pointed me to the secondhand store down the street. I was of average size with slightly broad hips, but she said I might find something that would fit. I stepped inside and proceeded to look for my size. The glaring fluorescents above made the bright, garish hues stand out much like the neon green slushie. Quickly bypassing those, I made a beeline for the darker hues, finding my size without much trouble. I picked out a few muted grays and blacks to try them on, discovering that many of them fell off of my hips. I looked at myself in the mirror and finally realized how much weight I'd lost.
In the harsh light, the dark circles were even more prominent, my once-crazed hair lacking its boisterous curls that now fell into haphazard waves over my shoulders. Mousy brown didn't go with pale skin, I thought, and I decided vitamins were probably in order if I could afford them. Once-full hips were now bony, the bones jutting out just a bit on the sides and as I lifted my shirt, I could see a faint outline of my ribs when I stretched. I dropped my shirt, grabbing the pairs of pants that fit and walked to the counter. There was no hope on getting them all to fit, so I put most of them back, telling myself I could pin the rest if I lost more weight.
When the lady was ringing my purchases up, I glanced at the earring turnstile for a moment. As I spun it around, I noticed the little H-shaped earrings dangling on a fine golden chain. A tear came to my eye when I thought about who I used to be, Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire and star pupil. I picked them up and laid them on my purchases. One dollar for a pair of small gold earrings wouldn't set me back too far and they would make my face glow. At least, that's what I told myself. Even though I could lie to everyone else about who I was, I couldn't lie to myself. I pushed that thought away, refusing to dwell on it. The past was dead. I was just having trouble moving on.
Upon arriving at the apartment, I was surprised to find a small kitten mewling at my door. Softly setting the small bag down on the concrete floor, I extended my hand to the frightened little thing, pitiful with its matted fur and weak howl. It walked shakily over to me, one eye crusted closed as it lost its balance, toppling into my hands. I hastily put the key in the door, opened it, and set the kitten in the middle of the kitchen floor. After I'd shut the door with my purchases inside, I set about preparing a makeshift litter box and a bowl of milk for the poor thing. The milk was quickly devoured and I ran the water to bathe it while it peed in the litter box. I had guessed putting it close was a good idea and since it had barely made it to the box before it peed in the first place, I was right. Picking it up, I set about bathing it, carefully washing the crust out of its eyes and cleaning its fur. By the time I finished, the water was black and the kitten was a pale yellow color with luxurious short fur and bright brown eyes.
I called it Lynx because its ears had little tufts on the end, much like the larger animal, and its eyes were large for its age. As I sat in the overstuffed, aging armchair, I placed the small kitten into my lap where it kneaded my legs and stomach until it found an appropriate place to be comfortable. I mindlessly stroked its drying fur, not caring about the wet patch now seeping into my pants, and looked into its contented face. An ear twitched when my thumb got too close to it…and it reminded me of Crookshanks and his slight irritation at the smallest things. However, when I thought about him almost eating Peter Pettigrew in rat form, I shivered, hoping this kitten could learn to survive on cat food and the occasional insect. I wasn't about ready to have mice left on my door as presents when I arrived home from work.
Yawning widely, I looked at the clock on the wall phone. It was nearly ten o'clock and I had work at two in the afternoon tomorrow…since Amber was adamant about training me as soon as possible. Deciding a bit of sleep was in order, even if it was futile in the long run, I lifted the kitten into my arms and placed it on the small bed. It immediately nestled back down on the foot of the mattress as I disrobed, put on a battered pair of faded cotton shorts and an old t-shirt, and then climbed into bed. My head hit the soft pillow and my tattered body felt perfectly at home in the rather soft, cheap sheets I had purchased months ago. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep in my perfect little land of nightmares.
As expected, I couldn't sleep through the night, bathed in sweat and salty tears when I woke up, fighting away visions of Ron, Harry, and all the others. I always dreamt of the Final Battle, pouring rain and many-colored lights sweeping across the grounds of Hogwarts. Red, greens, oranges, and even the stray blue and yellow curses had flown through the storm, many of them accurately hitting their targets. It had been a night of torturous screams, devilish laughter, mourning, and death.
Bellatrix and I had met at one point during the battle, her bloodlust overpowering her sanity that night. We'd fought, the clashing of an insane mind and one fighting for survival. She was fast with her curses and even faster with her Unforgivables. While we were dueling, I saw Ginny fall in a flash of green light, broken and battered across the grass of Hogwarts. Enraged, I flew at Bellatrix, blaring spells of elemental power at her, but even that wasn't enough. I was hit with her hex as I turned to my side as she cast it in succession three times. Tracing the raised, jagged scars on my left side, I remembered the absolute blinding pain as I'd fallen, unable to move and covered in blood. As blackness claimed me, I had heard an unearthly scream as Bellatrix fell, her soul ripped from her body and banished to the darkest regions of hell.
Someone had taken me from the grounds of Hogwarts to a wizarding underground after that. Each bed had been separated by thick, pale curtains, sheltered from the world around it, and when I first arrived there, I had wondered why. I had been healed, though the scars would always be a reminder of the Final Battle, and given false Muggle papers to flee the country. One night before my departure, I had asked the nurse about the curtains. Her mouth had lifted into a sad smile and her eyes hardened like steel as she answered my question in a light, airy voice.
"The curtains are there for the same reason that we use Polyjuice to disguise ourselves, even to our fellow Healers. Who can we trust now, Miss Johnson?" she said, using my false Muggle name, getting me used to the realization that I now live a different life. "We cannot Polyjuice the patients for fear of poisoning them with some of the Dark curses we've encountered. These magic curtains were the only other option," she replied as she placed her hand through the imaginary curtain, but it didn't shimmer, just parted around her hand. "They shelter you, the patient, as much as us, the healers. When you leave, you will be sent with a vial of Polyjuice, enough to get you out of the country and to America. There, the plan is for you to start a new life in America and forget about the magical world. For some, such as yourself, it will be much easier than others to adjust to the Muggle life. You are also young and beautiful, able to start a family and live your life as it should have been, happy, and with freedom."
I had blinked back tears, remembering Ron and his promises, the ring still around my neck and warm from my skin. Then, I looked at her. She was by no means old, still of childbearing years, with black hair and deep blue eyes which would warm with her smile. As I took this in, she turned away from me, drawing breath to speak again.
"You must remember, Miss Johnson; I am under the influence of Polyjuice Potion. In actuality, this particular person is dead, killed in the Final Battle of Hogwarts. She also was young, but unlike you, she was pregnant. Her child never got to see the world she lived in, go to Hogwarts, or even cry. Remember that when you leave."
I'd never forgotten it. As I stretched, I smacked into a soft lump at the foot of the bed. A soft mewl reminded me of the kitten I'd taken in as my own earlier, the sound not unlike a baby's first cry. I cried myself back to sleep that night, just like any other night, dealing with the demons I tried to hide to start over. Somehow, it never worked.