To Love Life Again
Chapter Five
Pins and Needles
Every night, Hermione nodded off to sleep either after talking the night away with Kathy, or after reading in her chair in front of the fire in Faerie Hill Cottage. And then every morning, she would be roused by birds. Just like at Hogwarts. But here they sounded a legion, twittering and singing and fussing over the dawn of the new day, hopping around in some of Hermione’s as-yet empty flowerbeds, where she had taken to throw bread crumbs, as advised by Aunt Patty. The birds ate them and their droppings made the soil richer for the flowers. Hermione would throw open her window and she was always amused when they all took flight, only to dive back down (to Crookshanks’s indignation).
On those mornings, Hermione could sit for hours by her window, just drinking in the sights, smelling the air, and then when she couldn’t bear it anymore, she would rush to her door, sometimes still in her pajamas, and plant herself in the midst of the wonder of it all. It was the simplest and greatest magic, spring.
Things asleep awakening again.
Like her.
~ * ~
With mortification, she realized she still had not gone to visit her grandparents’ graves. She dressed and put on the lovely little bonnet Ginny had given her before she left. She tamed her hair under it, shooting it with spells, and then she grabbed Crookshanks before he could elude her. He mrowled in disgust as she put on his booties. “You don’t want mud on your feet, do you, Mr Priss?” she teased him. But really, his booties were for his joints. He was too old to prowl and prance around now.
The sun was deliciously warm; she took off her bonnet and cardigan before her cottage was even out of sight behind her. She had picked some of her early blooms. She tucked them into her bonnet and they made splashes of blue and purple and pink on her white sundress”the dress she reserved for visits to Ron. Her grandparents were just as special, if not more; perhaps it was partly guilt”this would be the first time she would see them since she went to Hogwarts.
The cemetery was only a little way down the hill, between her cottage and the village. The steeple of the quaint church stood like a sentinel and guardian beside it. It was a happy cemetery, all the graves well-kept and some with lightning rods on them, for those who would not lie peacefully. She looked for the adjacent round tombstones that she was familiar with from photographs her mother had shown her. Without difficulty, she discerned them against the honeysuckle-festooned trunk of a dead tree”like two lovers sitting, talking of nothing, lost in each other and the quiet beauty of the surroundings.
She shook her head at her nonsense. Her brain was stagnating, perhaps, giving way to this sentimentality. She heard chimes; the breeze picked up. Hermione shook her head again. But no, the chimes still rang from somewhere and the inscriptions were still engraved deep onto the marble of her grandparents’ graves. They were not from her stagnating sensibilities at all.
The first and third lines were on her grandmother’s headstone, the second and fourth were on her grandfather’s, so that it looked like they were reading the verse to each other.
“The rose is fairest when ’t is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.
The rose is sweetest wash’d with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalm’d in tears.”
Only the young and only the old would say and think and believe such things. But she smiled at the prettiness and…magic of the words and sat down onto the grass, breathing deeply and still hearing the chimes. Perhaps they came from the church? The same church founded by Saint Declan? And what about the Tower, where, legend has it, the stones still sang of battle and glory?
It was all so enchanting, being in this quiet land vibrating with myth and history combined. Right then she was certain her loneliness and fears had evaporated, chased away by the…how could she put it”the humble majesty of nature’s tranquility.
Crookshanks finally decided the various things buzzing around were unworthy of him and trotted over to Hermione. He sniffed around a little and then flopped down in the small space between the two graves.
~ * ~
“I am quite curious about it, too, my lass. You’re such a beauty. Well”you may not be drop-dead gorgeous, but you do have this air…” Aunt Patty smiled indulgently as she wiped the bar. She and Kathy were at it again, matchmaking. Hermione just shook her head in bemusement. “And without turning around, I can assure you that every male eye in the pub is on you.”
“Ma, she’s still in mourning,” Kathy hissed. She and her mother had somehow switched tunes. “And you know full well that they’re only afraid of Jack, that’s why none of them looks at me anymore.”
Hermione laughed outright. Kathy wiped her spill. They were on the bar. It was after lunchtime, and they had just finished eating. Hermione had spent quite a number of hours in that park of graves and was only reminded of the time when her stomach voiced its opinion. She went straight to MacElroy’s (because she still can’t find The Green Dragon). Crookshanks was curled up on one of the stools. “You can’t be jealous, Kathy!”
“Oh, yes I am! Of that dress!”
Hermione plucked at the white cotton and mocked incredulity. Aunt Patty was unwilling to be shaken off like this and refilled Hermione’s glass with, “Only saints and devils could live alone, an old proverb but a true one.”
Hermione jumped when Andrei snorted beside her. He had joined them to place an order and deposit empties. He grimaced at his aunt. “You’re quite maudlin, Patricia. You must learn to control such gush. They are not becoming and reveal your dotage,” he said in mock high-handed tones. Hermione stared at him even as Aunt Patty shrieked and laughed and hit him with her rag.
He raised an eyebrow at her. She stopped staring and smiled, remembering her resolve not to pry. He fumbled with the tray and went off without another word.
“Look at him, he couldn’t say more than a grunt when you’re looking, Hermione.”
Hermione jumped again. “Who?”
“Andrei! Where have you been, girl?”
“Oh, no, I don’t think” He can’t possibly””
Aunt Patty and Kathy laughed. “Attraction between a man and a woman is rarely impossible. Why then do you sputter like that as if Andrei hasn’t got eyes or blood in his veins?” the older woman said.
Hermione just shook her head and drank her mango nectar, laughing a little. To think that the man they were saying was attracted to her was someone she suspected of being Malfoy! Luckily, a whole family entered at that moment, and a troop of men early from work. Aunt Patty zoomed to the other end of the bar. Jack arrived from upstairs and deposited little Ron in Kathy’s arms. The baby instantly lifted his arms toward Hermione, who took him happily.
“He’s really taken with you, isn’t he?”
“You’re lucky to have such a sweet child.”
“Not Ron, Andrei!”
“What? No, really””
“I’ve never seen him act like this to a girl before. He’s grumpy with you and hardly says a word. Could be you’re scaring him. He always said he won’t marry. And that drives every girl mad whenever he says that and then flirts around.”
“Well, I guess I’m better off. I prefer surliness to flirting.”
“Oh, because you’ll be hooked if he flirts with you?”
“Honestly, Kathy! I think men who flirt are low. Ron didn’t do it with me. No one else dared either.” There was MacLaggen on her sixth year, the oaf. And Krum”but no, he was a little too reserved for that. After that, there was only Ron. And after that…there was no one else.
~ * ~
Jack winked at him from the small platform in the pub, and Draco could have thrown a mug at him. There he was, strumming and plucking at that guitar, while Draco was left at the bar, up to his arse in beer. Kathy and Aunt Patty were waitressing. There’d been a program at the school, and every family decided afterward to cap the day with Aunt Patty’s beans and a pint. Jack was called to sing and play as usual. And while Draco didn’t dislike the music and the liveliness of the pub, he was aggravated by some girl who wouldn’t leave him in peace even she wasn’t even there”
“You’re wasting good beer!”
“Hey, Darcy, I didn’t see you. Thank goodness.”
Darcy lifted the flap, hurried over and turned the tap off. Draco blinked. He had nearly made being up to his ass in beer a reality. He set down the mug and hurried to get the mop.
“Don’t tell Aunt Patty, she’ll kill me,” he muttered to the girl beside him. She had black hair like Jack, but hers was so dark it was almost blue. She was gazing at Draco with disbelief and amusement out of her long-lashed gray eyes.
“I suppose it’s true what Kathy’s saying then, that someone has caught Andrei’s eyes at last.”
He snorted. “The only things catching my eye right now are your lovely suede boots. And if you’ll move, I won’t ruin them.” He threatened bringing down the beer-soggy mop on her feet. She jumped back and smacked him on the arm. She winked at him as she tied on an apron. She was always willing to help them out at the bar. She enjoyed the free drinks, and more people came over just to flirt with her as well. It was equal trade. “I only went to Dublin for a week and I already have competition.”
“Shut up, Darcy, or they’ll get wind of us. You don’t want anyone beating me up. The transplant stealing the village’s rose from right under everyone’s noses.”
She laughed. Draco gazed at her; she was beautiful. But he was seeing another person entirely in his mind’s eye, whose laughter was…richer and warmer to his ears somehow.
“My God, Andrei, you’re going to push Patty into bankruptcy if you keep pouring her beer on the floor! You are lovestruck!”
Andrei jumped and threw a rag on the spot where he’d spilled again, muttering a curse. Darcy looked startled. He grinned. “Sorry. I’m just nervous. Not so loud, though, my darling, or I would be ambushed on my way to snatching you away tomorrow.”
Darcy rolled her eyes.
The phone hanging on the wall behind them rang. Normally, Draco never answered the phone; he was still wary of that Muggle contraption though he knew every wire inside it courtesy of Jack’s teaching. But this time, he practically tackled Darcy to answer it. She just gave him her teasing smile, shook her head in mock sorrow and hurt and mouthed, “My competition.”
“MacElroy’s,” he drawled, turning his back on Darcy and the pub noise.
“A-Andrei?”
His stomach gave that same somersault it did the time Jack had tricked him into unknowingly eating haggis. It was Hermione on the other end, and she was either having a really bad cold or crying a bucket. He could hear her sniffling. Merlin, he wished he’d let Darcy pick up the phone. His chest constricted.
“Yes? What’s wrong”?” He kept his voice steady, but he still wasn’t able to speak her name.
“I”I’m sorry for bothering you, but could someone come over for a m-minute””
“We’re busy right now””
“”my cat died.”
“”I’ll come.”
“What?” They said in unison.
“Your cat?”
“You’ll come?”
“Yes, he was really getting on, you know.”
“Yes, we can call Darcy’s brother Drew to man the bar for a bit.”
There was silence, as if they were both giving way to the other to speak after speaking at the same time thrice. Draco swallowed in frustration. But he couldn’t wait to bang the phone down and leave.
“Thank you. I’m sorry for bothering you, but I”I found him just now, I thought he was just napping. I was reading all day.”
“That’s alright. I’m coming.” He was already tugging off his apron.
She hung up. Draco gave the phone to Darcy. “Call Drew. He won’t mind, right? Tell him I’ll treat him next week to Dublin.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Faerie Hill. Our cousin Hermione. Her cat died.”
“Oh. Hermione. So that’s her name.”
He ignored her teasing look and nearly tore the flap off the counter as he rushed through it. Aunt Patty called something to him. “Hermione’s cat died!” he answered without looking back.
A second after the door closed on him, the villagers all tittered and giggled while Aunt Patty and Kathy started the betting pool about how long it will take Andrei to get married to the new Faerie Hill princess. The Irish believed in fate, love at first sight, and a good wager after all.
~ * ~
They had woken up together that morning. He had flicked his tail impatiently as she fixed him his food. The usual.
She had quartered oranges and apples for herself and then ate in the living room, deep in her armchair and reading by the morning light streaming in through the open windows. When Crookshanks finished his private breakfast, he trotted over, told her by a mrowl to remove the platter from his rightful place, and jumped onto her lap. The usual.
He let her pet him for some chapters of the book before jumping off and sunning himself on the floor by her feet. When he was warm enough, he wound himself around her ankles thrice and then climbed the stairs for his private licking in her room. The usual.
She got lost in her book and then in her garden. She ate there outside after placing food on his dish. It was only when she went in and saw the food still untouched that she rushed to her bedroom. And there he was on his rug by her bed. Her cat for nearly ten years. Her cat who had led them to see Pettigrew’s treachery. Her cat who had loved chasing gnomes, disliked loud and lazy people, adored cream cheese, hated dirty rooms. Her cat who was so much like her, who had yowled for an hour when Ron was buried and who had always leapt to Hermione’s lap whenever she began to stare at the fire.
Her intelligent, prissy, loving, loyal cat, Crookshanks.
She didn’t move him as yet. She let him lie there on the rug so that she’d have the memory of his image in her mind for always.
“Hey.”
She jumped. It was Andrei. She didn’t care even if he looked like Malfoy”or perhaps it was because he looked like Malfoy, the only link she had now with the people she loved and who loved her”she hugged him, thankful that he had come and needing to hold someone. She cried a little, but quietly, as if Crookshanks was only sleeping and would be grumpy at the noise. He patted her back a bit.
He gently pushed her away and sat her downstairs on her chair. He went back upstairs, and then came down with a little box, the quilt inside it peeping out. He raised her eyebrows at her. She nodded. She opened the box. Crookshanks lay there in his favorite rug, covered with the quilt. He really looked like he was just napping.
“Thanks, Andrei.” She reverently replaced the box lid.
He just looked at her, nodding. She was glad of his silence. Nothing could be said anyway. She’d felt the same way when they’d buried Ron. It was those who just kept quiet who gave her their sympathy the most.
He cleared his throat. “Do you intend to just lay him in the garden? Or do you want to take him to”?”
She smiled. “England’s too far. And I’m sure he’d be indignant if I cut my vacation short. I know the perfect place. He showed it to me yesterday.”
~ * ~
Draco sneaked glances at her as she carried the little spade, expecting her to break down and dissolve like little Ron into a puddle of tears and sobs. That was what he’d pictured, becoming one giant tissue for her as she cried for her cat. But no, here she was, quite serene, breathing deeply, looking around like they were only sightseeing, while he carried the box where her cat was about to be buried in. He knew how long she must have had this cat; he remembered the time when it was rumored throughout school that Weasley and Granger had broken up because of their rat and cat.
Still, perhaps she had become numbed by grief already. He could understand that.
They stopped in front of her grandparents’ tombstones. Without preamble, she brought the spade into cutting the ground between the two graves. Her face was calm and she even smiled at him.
“He liked it here,” she whispered, her skin reflecting the gold of the afternoon light.
His chest was acting up again. He needed something to do. He set the box down on the grass and took the spade from her. The ground was soft; it wasn’t long before they had a good-sized hole. Hermione kissed the top of the box before placing it on the ground. She must have conjured the flowers while he dug”where else did she get such a profusion of lilies of the valley and snowdrops? And then she took the spade from him and pushed back the soil herself.
She knelt beside the flowers a little while.
“I got him in my third year at school and he wasn’t quite young then. The shopkeeper said nobody wanted him.” She smiled and shrugged. “My friends didn’t like him at first either. I don’t know why I loved him; he wasn’t gorgeous like my mother’s Persian, but I just felt drawn to him somehow.”
Draco nodded. He kept his face impassive though her words were like wand sparks that made him want to cringe. What was the matter with him? Why was Hermione Granger affecting him like this? She straightened, dusted her knees and smiled at him. He looked away.
He could see the stream lacing the hill, curving every which way like one of those dragons on Waterbut’s outlandish apron. He could smell the sweet clean scent of the earth. He sensed Hermione standing beside him and gazing around as he did. He could feel his heart thudding madly in his ribcage, for all the world as if it wanted to detach itself from his body. It was all he could do not to thump his chest to calm it down. And he could hear chimes.
“Do you hear that? Sounds like chimes,” Hermione asked.
“You hear it, too?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“This is the second time I heard it. Where do you suppose it comes from?”
“They say it comes from the underground palace of the faeries.” He rolled his eyes. One, because he knew what he said was silly, and two, because he could have said something sensible instead but didn’t say it.
She smiled. “There are faeries, you know.”
He looked at her. There was no mistaking the repartee in her eyes. Right. How could a wizard scoff at faeries? Idiot, she’s only suspecting you’re a wizard. He just shrugged. “It could be coming from the Tower. Have you been there?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want to go?”
She looked startled and unnerved by his invitation. He smirked inwardly. “Oh, I”I don’t know”I already took so much of your time.”
“Come on.” And he took her hand. It took him a second to realize what he’d done, because it was like an electric current shot up his hand throughout his body, and by then it was too late. What kind of idiot would he be if he suddenly let go? He held on and led her to the top of the hill, to the ruin of the battlements.
Hermione talked as they walked. He was surprised to find her chatter pleasant. She talked about Crookshanks, not in grief, but in loving recollection, as if he was an old childhood friend. He looked at her from time to time, amazed at how she was perfectly handling this new blow.
“I know what you’re thinking. I don’t know why I’m so light-hearted about it either. But this isn’t so sudden as”” She took a deep breath and he knew she was referring to Ron Weasley’s death. “Well, Crookshanks’s death wasn’t unexpected at all. I guess I’ve already readied myself for it. It wouldn’t do to grieve again. Crookshanks had had enough of that.” She smiled.
She let go of his hand and read the inscription on the plaque. “ ‘Here men fought for life in its purest, free and fair.’ That’s poignant, isn’t it? It’s really wrong to mope when here we’re living a life free and fair.” She shrugged.
Draco just nodded, absently. His eyes were glued on the tarnished brass. What was the point of what he fought for if he wasn’t living it?
“What are you thinking?” Hermione asked, her voice playful. Oh, yes, they were now pals. And know-it-all Granger was not know-it-all for nothing.
He raised his eyebrow at her, and smirked. “And why should you know what I’m thinking?”
She drew back and laughed shakily. “You really remind me of someone I know. But you can’t be him. He wouldn’t have been this nice to me. He wouldn’t even have talked to me. Not like this anyway.”
“I thought he was a close friend?”
She grinned. “No, he wasn’t. I only said that because I thought you were him, really. It’s uncanny how you look alike. But no, we weren’t friends.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing, then.”
Draco was startled at his own words. But he smiled because Hermione smiled. He wasn’t much calmer than he looked. Inside, it was as if he had just run a mile with the five Brennan Dobermans snarling at his heels. It scared the crap out of him.
~ * ~
“Pins and needles.”
“What?”
“You’ve been frozen for so long. Now that you’re beginning to feel again, naturally, it’s uncomfortable.”
Draco snorted into his sour buttercream. “That’s an understatement.”
“Well, if I say you’re bloody terrified”” Waterbut chuckled when Draco sputtered in denial, “”see, of course, you won’t admit it. Which is why there are so many unhappy hearts around.”
“I hate it when you talk like a darn greeting card.”
The blue eyes only twinkled at him good-naturedly. Draco sighed. “Do you suppose this is only because she’s the first one of my kind who have really been close to me after a long time?”
“Why? What do you call your aunt and cousins and neighbors? Monkeys? Robins? Trouts?”
Draco gaped at him. Waterbut chuckled.
Draco shook his head. What a stupid statement indeed. And then he choked on his drink for the second time. Hermione Granger, his own kind?
“Yes, that’s what I noticed, dear boy. Took you a second, didn’t it? Don’t be shocked. You should be proud of yourself. This is proof of how far you’ve come since grafting yourself off from your unhealthy roots.”
Draco smiled. Yes, ‘Mudblood’ seemed like Gobbledegook now.
Author’s Notes: The short verse is borrowed from Sir Walter Scott’s Lady of the Lake.