Never knew I could feel like this
Like I’ve never seen the sky before
Want to vanish inside your kiss…
Seasons my change winter to spring
But I love you until the end of time.
Come what may
Come what may
I will love you until my dying day.
- Moulin Rouge “Come What May"
September 23, 2005
Excited squeals ring in the halls amidst various “awws”; a jubilant show of appreciation and amazement at the scene unraveling before them. On bended knee he asks her. She assents with tears in her eyes, and slipping on the dazzling ring, he rises and thanks her with a kiss.
Hermione jerks her head to the side hoping to hide the anguish painted clearly on her features. Her hands tremble and her vision blurs, until she can no longer read the letter she can’t seem to throw away.
With a sniff and all of the dignity she can muster, she places his letter in the box along with all of the others. Slamming it shut, she pauses and takes a deep breath, taking a hold of her flailing emotions.
She could still hear them. Still see them holding each other and smiling with all of the others in the grand room. His long and detailed written explanation of this event makes sure that she never forgets this.
His words are paintings of the moment that tears at her heart with mocking laughter, and having the letter hidden away, unfinished, does nothing to settle her swirling thoughts.
She sits in a chair staring at her reflection. What is wrong with her? Why has he chosen another?
The tears she struggles to hold back cascade down her cheeks and she throws herself onto the dresser. Her shoulders shake. Loud muffled sobs of one with nothing left to lose wrenches from her already raw throat.
Moments later, having dispelled most of her sorrow, she glances up and catches sight of her disheveled appearance. She sighs and swallows, getting up and walking out and onto the balcony.
The setting sun casts the indigo sky into a spell of fire. The sounds of the city reach her ears but she doesn’t heed them. She only closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and revels in the beauty of the moment, attempting to slow her racing heart.
A cool breeze flows around her, gently pushing her hair back and around her face. Her hands, clinging to the rail in an iron grip, slowly relax as a sweet memory is relived once more.
Peals of laughter ring in her ears, and she could almost feel his arms wrap around her waist, holding her close. A similar sun sets in the distance igniting rippling waters.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
His lips brush her ears lightly as he whispers to her.
“Breathtaking,” she remembers answering breathlessly, half of her thinking of the scenery and the other half caught up in the man that held her.
A car shrieks and her eyes open.
“Don’t forget,” she whispers to the wind, not sure if those words are meant for her or are a desperate call to him.
As if in answer to her call, the door suddenly opens and he’s there with a bag of groceries in one hand, a box of Ron’s things in the other and the mail clutched between his lips.
She dashes over to help him, not before he gives her an odd look at her appearance, but she shakes his look off with a wave of her hand. He kisses her cheek in greeting and her eyes shut briefly before he pulls away with a bright smile.
She walks into the kitchen and places the bag on the table.
“Where’s Ron?” she asks.
“Getting the rest of his things, he should be here in a moment.”
She walks back into the living room to find him standing with a slight smile and reading a letter.
It’s from her.
She batters away the raging jealousy racing through her being.
“Did they move in already?”
“They will be. Ron’s cleared everything out so Ginny and Nigel should be settled in about, oh tomorrow. Are you alright? ”
“I’m fine,” she says brightly and forces a smile.
He doesn’t look as if he believes her, but just as he’s about to inquire further, Ron walks in burdened with the last of his belongings.
Desperate to get away from his intoxicating presence lest she loses herself in him, she turns quickly, takes a box from Ron and carries what she can into his new room.
She purposely takes her time laying the boxes down and arranging what she can. Their voices reach her ears. A bust of laughter erupts and she smiles a sad smile, wishing he didn’t have to go.
They turn as she enters the room and he offers her his bottle without hesitation.
“So are you settled with Gwen, then?” Ron asks and she takes a long gulp of the alcohol.
“Just about. She wants to change just everything around adding curtains here, chairs there.”
“It looked just fine,” Ron protests.
With a shrug he replies, “It what she wants, and if she’s happy, so am I.”
Ron mocks a swoon.
“Piss off,” he replies though a grin clings to his features.
Her stomach churns and she feels as if she’s going to throw up. Laughing nervously she says something about their last dinner together and races into the kitchen.
Unbeknownst to her, a pair of green eyes follow her every move as it always has.
“So what do you think?”
He blinks, slightly dazed and turns to Ron with a questioning look.
“What?”
A strange, yet knowing glance is thrown in his direction, but Ron continues, “The assignment. I think I’ll take the case. Tonks was appointed my second so that takes away Ginny’s worry about me working alone.”
“Tonks?”
“Yeah, mate. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Er..yeah.”
A loud clang resounds from the kitchen soon followed by a sharp curse. Their heads jerk at the sound and he glances worriedly in her direction. He crosses to the kitchen, calling out if she needs any assistance.
“I’m sure she’s…” Ron trails off knowing that his attempts are futile and he quickly follows suit.
“What happened?’
Ron hears him ask.
“Nothing. I’m alright, really. Just nicked my finger, overreacted and knocked the bowl clear off the counter.”
Ron stops at the doorway and watches as he towers over her, holding her hand delicately in his as if she was liable to break at the slightest touch.
With a whispered word the cut disappears without a trace and so does almost every ounce of her self control. She dares not look up, knowing that do so would be to trap herself in his gaze.
Then she would never want be free.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
She could feel his eyes boring into her and he does not let go of her hand. The drip, drip of the water falling gracefully from the silver tap fades into the background when, giving into temptation, she looks up. He swallows hard and looks at her with a trace of confusion.
A silent watcher, Ron stands unnoticed, witnessing the sweet tableau present before him.
Gwen who?