Chapter Eleven: Forgive And Forget
Harry didn't really know what to think. Okay, at this moment he wasn't really thinking at all, but thoughts would come to him eventually. Because he was kissing Hermione, a dream he'd fought hard to keep out of his head the last half a year. It gave him goose-bumps. It made him crazy. It made him dizzy. No, scratch that; it made him weak; it felt like his knees were about to give in and he would fall onto the floor. But he couldn't do that, because if he did, and ended up on the floor on top of her, -or worse; her on top of him- he knew he would get carried away and do something he'd regret later. It didn't stop his hands from roaming her back though, or tangling with her hair. What this would lead to, (beside the being-carried-away thing) which probably was something very awkward and difficult, he decided to worry about later. Wait, who's talking about worrying? Not Harry, because the sensible part of his brain had decided to go on vacation, so no such thoughts were even present.
He was currently enjoying the best moment of his life, so, naturally, someone had to ruin it. Vaguely, he heard someone clear a throat. (What? He never heard that badly before…?) This brought him back to reality. As close to reality as you can come, when you have a very beautiful woman wrapped around your neck, your hands under her blouse, caressing the small of her back. Harry had no idea how they had ended up there. One part of Harry's mind desperately wanted to just stay like that, while another (much smaller part) screamed that he should get control of himself. The smaller part, unfortunately, won.
He broke the kiss, took one step back and turned his head towards the door… and started wishing for a big, black hole, which he could hide in. A quick glance at Hermione, who also had noticed they were not alone anymore, told him that she was thinking along the same lines.
In later years Harry became rather famous for his door-locking; if he didn't want anyone to interrupt his privacy, no one interrupted his privacy. But today, in the doorway stood Professors Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Thank God it's not Sirius; he'd never let me live this down, flashed through Harry's mind. Not that this was any better, by the way.
Harry felt himself flush scarlet. Dumbledore was looking at them, with barely contained amusement, while McGonagall was looking quite shocked. The first few seconds, that is. Once the first shock left her, she had to fight to keep herself from grinning.
Harry was glad he had the ability to compose himself quickly. At least look like he composed himself quickly.
"Good evening, Professor," he said calmly, in an almost normal voice. "Something I can help you with?" he asked, and at the same time conjuring up four chairs.
Fortunately, even though Dumbledore didn't know what had happened between them, he knew it was something Harry and Hermione had to sort out by themselves. He also knew that they were old enough to do it, though they hadn't really showed it yet, considering what had happened last time they…err… met. So, much to Harry and Hermione's relief, he didn't say a word about what had been going on. It didn't stop him from looking very amused, though.
Despite his calm, (though rather flushed) appearance, Harry's mind was in chaos. Thoughts like: 'Why did she do that?', 'What will happen now?', 'Does she like me?', and so on, flashed through his mind at lightning speed. As much as Harry had thought about Hermione, the possibility of her liking him back had never crossed his mind. Yet, when she'd broken his barrier (Harry mentally berated himself), and read the emotions he held for her, she hadn't been disgusted or angry, but she'd kissed him! Harry's heart had stopped beating right then and there. All rational thoughts fled his head, and when she ran, he grabbed her and…
I need a cold shower.
~*~
Dumbledore was both surprised and amused. He had figured out that Harry had this 'thing' for Hermione, by reading his emotions, and of course, he also knew some of Hermione's feelings too. And even though he knew, he hadn't thought they would figure it out that fast.
Now, one may ask why he never told Harry and Hermione what he knew about them, and why he never volunteered to train Hermione's Empath abilities, which Harry didn't have. The answer was rather simple: As soon as an Empath discovered his or her abilities, he or she would need very little help to control it, and he would rather help the Empath to realise when to use the gift, and when not to use it, or misuse it. Throughout the years, he'd discovered quite a few Empaths, and though they had never known that he was one, he had, with his small, subtle hints and such, managed to get almost everyone to think twice before they used their gift. He prided himself in his ability to get students to trust him and respect him, and this so often proved useful. Because of his own Empathy, he could very often guess what people thought, and had many times given a student a guilty conscience with only a look.
As for the feelings Hermione and Harry had for each other: he knew very well that he could not tell either of them about it. It was something they had to figure out alone.
Also, he was very grateful that he'd never had revealed his gift to anyone. He had, almost immediately after discovering his gift, also discovered a way to hide it, something that should have been impossible, as every Empath can sense another Empath, even though he or she isn't currently using the gift. Yet, he had managed to hide it, and now he had decided to teach this to Harry and Hermione, as it wouldn't be smart to let anyone know about their Talents. He didn't know for sure, but he was fairly certain that you could hide any Talent in the same way.
But not right now. He had news from Blaise Zabini, one of his Death Eater students. It always filled him with sorrow when he learned that one of his students had joined their ranks, but at least this girl could be saved, and perhaps help others, who had found themselves trapped between the Light and the Dark. Yet, he suspected it was more than her being trapped as a Death Eater, wanting to be a light witch, that bothered her. He also suspected it was something about her that Harry hadn't told him when he said he had a spy in the Death Eaters' ranks. He only hoped Harry knew what he was doing.
Professor Dumbledore gave a quick review of what she'd brought back to him, deciding that it was time to let Hermione into it as well. He saw Hermione's confused look, and was about to start telling her what was going on, when she suddenly turned her head towards Harry, and a look of understanding dawned on her face. Dumbledore was puzzled for a second, before he realised that Harry had to be a Telepath. The young man had been rather reluctant to show what he could do, but it seemed like this wasn't bothering him so much any longer. Dumbledore had long wondered what had made Harry hide things from him, even after he learned what he really was, but had figured it was a force of habit. He only hoped he could open up to Ms. Granger.
~*~
"So," Harry said, "he's going to attack when the results are publicised, when very many people are gathered at the Ministry, along with the candidates. He will wreak havoc, kill the new Minister, let our good friend Lucius clear it up, and then let him claim the position. We know when, but we don't know how." He stroked his jaw absentmindedly. He could still feel it where Hermione had touched him. His skin still prickled and tingled so strangely. In fact, he was tingling all over. Riiiiiighhhht Harry! You're getting way off track…
"Okay," he said, forcing his brain to concentrate on the matters at hand. "Do you have any ideas about what to do?" he asked Dumbledore, and at the same time cast a quick glance at Hermione, who still had a red tinge in her checks, and was staring at her hands, occasionally casting glances at him. He fought the urge to sweep her up in his arms and kiss her senseless, and turned his full attention to Professor Dumbledore, who had started on the to-do list. Wonder if it meant anything… What if she's regretting it now? But why should she do it, then? What if she was just… caught in the moment? What if…
"A good idea," Harry said as Dumbledore stopped speaking. He quickly and unnoticed penetrated Dumbledore's shields, and read what he could find about what had just been said. The man had powerful shields, but not powerful enough. Harry wasn't entirely sure whether or not he'd been noticed, but he hoped not. And anyway, Dumbledore would probably understand that his mind was elsewhere 'occupied'. "So you'll get this Mr. Storm to raise the security at the Ministry, make sure as many of The Order of Phoenix members are there at the time, and then I'll make sure to be there, as 'The Golden Mask'."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that's all we can do, without attracting Voldemort's attention. I cannot be there, unfortunately, as I have Hogwarts to look after."
Harry smiled grimly. "We'll make sure he gets a warm welcome anyway." Then he shook his head, as if to shake off the grim mode, and smiled. "So, you think Mr. Weasley is going to win?" he asked, and Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore shared a glance.
"Well," McGonagall said, "Marice has done a good job, so we're rather sure he will. We cannot be absolutely sure, however, though Mr. Malfoy's chances are as good as nothing anyway, and that's good."
Hermione, who had been following the conversation with interest, and been telepathically supplied with bits and pieces of information from Harry, looked confusedly at her professor, while Harry grinned. "So the two of you did have something to do with that!" he exclaimed, and McGonagall shoot him a surprised look.
"You knew about that?" she asked, and Harry nodded, supplying Hermione with the necessary information.
"You always looked so smug when it came up," he said. "I couldn't be sure, of course, but it served my purposes, so I didn't actually care about the details."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Nothing gets past you, does it?" he said, and Harry smiled.
"Oh, you know. I've had a good teacher," he said, and sent the Headmaster a knowing look, mixed with amusement. Both he and Hermione had, by now, forgotten to be embarrassed.
They sat in silence for a little while, all of them in their own thoughts (not in anyone else's). Harry sighed. How wonderful it had felt to hold her like that. She was so warm and so soft… He could have spent hours just holding her close, hearing her heartbeats, her breathing, taking in the soft scent of her, playing with her hair, and feeling her warmth. He'd give anything to be able to do that again. He smiled wryly at himself. You kiss her once, and then you can't imagine a life without her. Get a grip, Potter.
Dumbledore interrupted his train of thought. "But what about this Talent you discovered? The one you think comes from Voldemort?" Professor McGonagall cringed slightly.
Harry's head snapped up. "What?" he said, before he realised what Dumbledore was talking about. "Oh, that." He frowned, since he hadn't really given it much thought yet. He'd had other things on his mind. "I don't know," he said. "I think it was a Talent, as it was definitely not a curse or spell. And in some strange way I 'recognised' it. If you can say that about something you haven't seen before." He sent Hermione a brief review of what he'd discovered when he visited the Minister.
Dumbledore thought about that for a moment. "Everyone who has a Talent can sense another with the same Talent. Could it be possible that you have it too?" he asked.
Harry rubbed his temples. "I honestly don't know. It could be that, but it could be because I'm a Citatio." He sighed. "Damn you Voldemort!" he suddenly blurted out, frustrated, before smiling sheepishly at his outburst. McGonagall cringed.
Something tickled at the edge of Harry's mind. Something he should have remembered. No, something he should know. Why did he get the same weird feeling when he said 'Voldemort', and when he'd searched Fudge's mind? When he thought about it, he'd always had this tickle, every time that name was mentioned. Why hadn't he noticed it before?
"Voldemort," he said again, at the same time searching in the same way as he'd done with the Minister. Again this tickle at the back of his mind. The others looked confused at him, and McGonagall flinched.
"Excuse me, Harry, but why did you repeat that name?" Hermione asked, and the professors looked curiously at him. Harry frowned. Hermione had always flinched at that before. A suspicion started to form in his mind.
"Voldemort," he said, and the same thing happened; McGonagall cringed, and the three of them looked at him as if he was going mad.
"Harry?" Dumbledore said, wondering why Harry was repeating the name 'Voldemort'.
Harry looked at him. "What I noticed in the Minister is also associated with the name 'Voldemort'," he said, slowly. "I get this weird tickle in the back of my head every time I hear it. When I think about it, I have always reacted that way." The three others shared a look.
"What do you mean?" Professor McGonagall asked.
Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let it out again, slowly. "Every time a person hears it, he or she cringes, and feels frightened," he said. "And now I just did a 'search', as I call it, and found something quite similar to what I found in the Minister, yet different…" Harry shook his head. "Very difficult to explain."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Care to try?" he asked.
Harry fixed his green eyes on Minerva. "You're the only one who fears the name in this room. I do not, because I'm a Citatio, Hermione doesn't because she's a Pectal, and Professor Dumbledore doesn't, because he's a very powerful wizard," he said, and it suddenly occurred to Hermione that he was right; she didn't fear the name anymore, like Ron did.
Harry continued. "It's like…something… is woven around the very name. Something evil that is in the air, and when the name is said, it triggers a fear reaction in the person who hears it."
Harry looked as confused as the other three. "But," he said, slowly, "I managed to remove it from the Minister, so I should manage it with 'Voldemort' too."
He stood and walked over to McGonagall. "May I?" he asked. McGonagall nodded; she was curious about this too. Harry placed two fingers on her forehead, and his eyes shone for a moment.
Hermione followed his every move, curious about both the name and about Harry. She hadn't seen him use his powers much yet, so she paid careful attention to what he did.
Harry frowned; he'd found nothing in his search. Okay, different approach, he thought.
"Voldemort," he said, pronouncing it clearly, at the same time trying to find what magic was in the name. Professor McGonagall shivered, but not so visibly as she did before; she was trying to fight the urge. However, even though Harry came a few steps closer, he didn't quite reach whatever it was he was trying to remove.
"Minerva," he said, (he'd gotten used to using his former professors' first names now.) "Please say the name. Pronounce it loud and clear."
So McGonagall, though not knowing what Harry was doing, yet willing to be a part of the experiment, did so. She gathered her Gryffindor courage, and took a deep breath.
"V-Voldemort," she said. Harry's eyes suddenly lit up with a golden light, and an expression of triumph spread across his face. A few seconds later the light dimmed, and Harry took a few steps back, smiling.
"Say the name again," he said.
"Voldemort," McGonagall said, and her eyes widened in surprise. "What?" she said. "That- that was so easy!"
But while McGonagall was marvelling over the 'miracle', Dumbledore was frowning. "Harry," he said, and the others turned their attention to him. "I don't know what you know about this new Talent, but I cannot bring myself to believe that Voldemort could bring the whole wizarding world to fear his name with magic. With killings and destruction, perhaps, but with magic?" Harry nodded at the Headmaster.
"Yes, and you're right. It's a kind of combination between the two of them, and it can be fought. I'm sure you know that some wizards and witches nearly faint at the use of his name, while others just cringe slightly. You can 'train' yourself not to fear it, in a way."
Hermione, McGonagall and Dumbledore raised their eyebrows.
"What?" Harry said, confused.
"And this you found out by just making Minerva say 'Voldemort'?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry smiled. "Yes, it provided me pretty much information. If I'd just looked for the same information when I searched Fudge, I would have known it before," he said, and Dumbledore nodded.
"So now the fear for Voldemort's name is gone?" Hermione asked eagerly, but Harry shook his head.
"No, what I did applies to Minerva alone. I can do it to everybody else, but I don't particularly like the idea of doing it to thousands of others. Imagine the time it would take," he answered. He looked thoughtful for a moment. The magic Voldemort had used was rather simple, yet it would take him quite an amount of time to repair the damage inflicted, if he should choose to try that.. "You know, it took Voldemort less than an hour to do it, and yet it would take me a decade to un-do it." He scowled. "The man certainly loves to make my life difficult." The three others chuckled at that. It wasn't like it was very funny, but it was so bizarre that it was funny. Most people would probably phrase it a bit differently. But it was good in a way; one has to laugh at the small things, when you live in a world at war.
In the end, Dumbledore decided it was time to depart. He remembered that Harry and Hermione had been rather 'busy' when he arrived, and he was sure they still had something to settle. He didn't voice that thought, though. He just announced his and McGonagall's departure, and left. It was only afterwards he realised he hadn't presented the proposition of teaching them to hide their Talents. Oh well, he thought. I'll deal with that later. They wouldn't be paying attention anyway.
~*~
Harry and Hermione sat a few moments in silence, thinking. Okay, what am I going to do now? 'Hermione, can I kiss you again?' Erm…No. Perhaps not the best way to start this…Perhaps I should invite her to my rooms, so we could talk…Next second: No! That could look like something! I certainly won't have her thinking that I just want to… He chose not to finish that particular thought.
"Err… Harry?" Hermione said, after a long silence. Oh no, here it comes, Harry thought.
"Yes, Hermione," even in his own ears his voice was strange. He licked his lips nervously, and forced himself to look at her. She looked nervous, yet she had a mischievous streak in her eyes.
"What kind of name is 'The Golden Mask', really?" she asked, and Harry stared at her. That was certainly not what he'd expected.
"Wh-what?" he croaked, and Hermione giggled like a silly schoolgirl. Next second, they both burst out laughing, for no apparent reason.
~*~
It was Hermione who suggested that they should go elsewhere to talk. Somewhere more comfortable ... and private. Harry, gathering his courage, suggested they should go to his living quarters, perhaps have a cup of tea, and well, talk. He prided himself on not rambling too much. Hermione agreed, though uncertainly. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but what if someone saw them? So Harry solved the problem by opening a Wandering portal to his living room, and dragged her through. While he made some tea, Hermione studied the portal, astonished. When Harry came back with tea, she proudly announced that she thought she knew how to close it. Harry beamed at her, but refused to let her try, considering that she already was exhausted. All this was only to delay what had to come, which was something that scared the living daylights out of both. In the end Harry motioned towards two chairs in front of the fireplace.
Now came the hardest thing: How to begin?
An awkward silence followed. Harry nervously took a sip of his tea, and grimaced. In his rush he'd made lemon tea instead of mint tea, and he'd completely forgotten to ask Hermione what she preferred. He decided it was time to break the silence, and cleared his throat. Hermione, who had been very interested in the patterns on her tea-cup, looked at him.
"Hermione," he said, but his voice failed him. "Hermione," he said again. "I j-just wanted to say that I'm sorry." He didn't dare to look at her.
Hermione stared at him. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that. Why should he apologise?
"Harry," she said softly, "why are you apologising to me? It's I who should apologise to you." Finally, Harry looked at her, and his eyes carried a mixture of love, hope, sadness, and regret.
"For what I said to you," he replied. "I didn't mean what I said, and it hurt you so much," he said, miserably.
Hermione felt so bad. He was miserable because he'd hurt her, when he had been completely right! Of course it had hurt her, but now she could see how wrong she had been, and how right he had been. After all, she had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable, and then, she'd got angry at him because he didn't come straight back to her, but hid from her instead. Hermione mentally smacked herself. Why hadn't she realised this before? She was supposed to be very intelligent, and yet, she'd behaved so terribly, terribly stupid. She suddenly realised exactly how stupid she'd been. She had known the truth for a long time now, but she hadn't really realised exactly what it meant. She'd been so buried in her own petty sorrows and problems, that she hadn't really thought about it. But now when she did, she was shocked beyond belief at her own stupidity.
"Oh Harry," she said hoarsely, tears in her eyes. Stupid tears. Idiot, you shan't cry now! "Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. It was I who was the stupid one. If what you said hurt me, then what I believed about you must have hurt you too. Please Harry, don't be sorry. I deserved it." And she did. She deserved everything she got. She'd believed he was a murderer. A tear silently slid down her check. Idiot. A few minutes ago you were laughing together with him, and now you're crying. Hermione chastised herself. But what if he'll never forgive me? A voice in her head said. But he did kiss me, the more optimistic voice replied. Heck, I don't deserve it! The first voice argued back. But perhaps he doesn't care about that. The optimistic voice again.
She heard a rustle of clothes and looked up into Harry's concerned eyes, where he was kneeling beside her chair. He extended a hand and brushed the tear away.
"Please, Hermione, don't cry. I don't like seeing you cry," he said, but this only brought more tears to her eyes. How could he be so kind to her, when she'd been such a bitch to him? She jerked away from him, and hid her face in her hands.
"I'm so sorry, Harry, I'm sorry," she whispered. "So sorry," she sobbed. She wanted him to go away, she didn't deserve either his concern or his love. But she wanted it so much. Next second she felt him wrap his strong arms around her, embracing her tightly but gently.
"Hermione," he whispered, "please don't cry. Please be happy again. I don't want you to cry. You'll make me cry too."
Hermione couldn't help herself. She melted into his arms, her body now shaking with sobs. Why was he doing this? Why didn't he just leave?
"I'm sorry," she said again, between the sobs.
"Shh," Harry soothed. "Don't be. I forgive you."
Wha-?
"I forgive you," Harry repeated.
Hermione forgot to cry. "What?" she asked. "Why?"
Harry smiled. "I forgive you," he said again. "Because I want to."
"But I don't deserve it," Hermione objected, and Harry laughed softly.
"Are you arguing with my decision, Hermione?" he asked, and she blushed.
"But I don't," she said again, though her spirits started to rise again.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. It's up to me to decide." He smiled again. "What? You don't want me to forgive you?"
"Well yes, of course I do, I just- you don't- I can't" She was rambling, and Harry chuckled.
"Finish your sentences, will you?" he said, and she blushed again. Harry still had his arms around her, and she was quite content where she was. But she had a question she had to ask.
"Harry," she said softly.
"Yes," he answered.
"How- I mean; what is going to happen now?" she avoided his eyes. "I mean, lots of things have happened since…" she trailed off. She remembered his trial all too well, and she didn't doubt he remembered it better.
He didn't say anything. Finally she dared to look at his face again. What she saw scared her. His eyes were so…dead. So haunted. She shuddered, knowing she'd been the cause, at least partially. He noticed her shudder, and his eyes snapped back to her again, and she cowered under his gaze. His eyes softened and he rose. He took her by her shoulders and led her over to the window.
"Look at the sunset, Hermione," he said. Confused, she did so. The sun was colouring the sky crimson, purple and pink, and made the mountains cast long shadows.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"So let's concentrate on that. Let's forget the bad things, and remember the good and beautiful things," he said. "Let's forget about the past." His arms slid around her waist from behind. "I just want to think about the future."
~*~
When Hermione woke up the next morning, she felt more at peace than she could remember. It took a few minutes before she understood why. Apparently, she had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace together with Harry, and that was why she woke up with her head resting on his chest, and his arms wrapped around her waist. She didn't mind though. She was happy to be in Harry's arms. Of course, she knew they still had a long way to go, but at least they had made up. That was a beginning.
She figured she was rather comfortable, and didn't really want to get up yet, so she decided against it. It was nice laying there, enjoying the warmth he emitted, and listening to his heartbeats and even breaths. In fact, he smelled very nice too; a mix of masculinity, fresh air and after-shave. She giggled and buried her head deeper in his chest, inhaling his scent deeply. Unfortunately, Harry was a light sleeper and woke up because of her movement. He blinked a couple times, realising what he had in his arms, and sat up. Hermione sighed disappointedly and curled up in his lap instead. He grinned slightly and yawned.
"Guess we fell asleep," he said.
"Mmm," Hermione murmured.
He chuckled. "Hermione," he said, "as much as I hate to mention it, it's morning, and we both have classes to attend to. So we really have to get up."
Hermione sighed. "But you haven't answered my question yet," she complained, and Harry looked confusedly at her.
"Your question? What question?" he asked.
"The one about 'The Golden Mask'. I asked what kind of name that was," Hermione said.
Harry grinned inwardly. Hermione was trying to drag out the time, and personally, he didn't mind that much. "Oh, that. Why did you even ask that question? It wasn't really what I'd thought you'd ask," he said.
"I was trying to lighten the mood," Hermione defended herself. "And as far as I remember, it worked. We both laughed our heads off, because it was so silly."
"As far as I remember, it didn't work at all. You still ended up sobbing in my arms," Harry replied.
"So?" Hermione pouted. "Then you could do that manly, comfort-the-girl thing of yours. You shouldn't really mind that."
"Well, okay, I admit it," Harry said. "I didn't mind that much." He leaned back and rested his back against one of the chairs, before settling her more comfortably in his lap. "But for your question; it wasn't me who chose the name. It was the public and the press. I've never even talked to a living person -well, except once- when I've been 'The Golden Mask'. Personally I agree with you: it's an absolutely ridiculous name."
Hermione turned to look at him. "It's your fault you know, with that costume," she said. "Honestly, red clashes horribly with your eyes."
"Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor," Harry defended himself. "Anyway, they could easily have found a better name; like Contorqueo* or Opacus*. Sceadu* is a good choice too, and Cieux*, or perhaps-"
He was interrupted by Hermione, "Stop showing off your Language gift, I don't understand a thing," she grunted, but she was smiling. "I get your point. But I like Adonis* better." Then, Harry blushed.
~*~
It was a little time later, after a bit of cosy cuddling (it was weird how easy it was to forget everything that had happened…), that Harry decided it was time for Hermione to return to her dorm, before someone discovered her absence.
"But how am I going to manage that?" Hermione said. "I have to wander through the whole castle."
"Well," Harry said. "There are two ways; you can borrow my invisibility cloak-" He was interrupted.
"But that was confiscated by the Ministry!" Hermione exclaimed.
Harry didn't really fancy starting on that story now. "Long story that, we'll take it later. The second option is to teach you to Wander."
Hermione squealed like a little girl. Must be a girl thing, Harry mused.
It took him exactly ten minutes to teach her how to open a gate, five minutes to teach her how to close it, and nine minutes to teach her how to end up where she wanted to end up. He didn't have the time to teach her how to make it invisible, so he just made sure she got safely into her room, telling her not to use it when he wasn't there. Hermione's innocent smile told him she was not going to listen.
He just hoped she wouldn't get caught.
---------------------------------
* Contorqueo: Latin for Power
* Opacus: Latin for Shadow
* Sceadu: Old English for Shadow
* Cieux: Part of the French word Silencieux, which means Silent. Also plural of Ciel, which means sky.
* Adonis: Adonis is a part of Greek Mythology. Apparently, he was an extremely handsome young man, and two Goddesses, Persephone and Venus, fell in love with him. To avoid quarrels, Zeus decided that he should spend one half of the year with one of them, and the other half with the other. Unfortunately, a dog attacked him while he was out hunting, and killed him. He died in Venus's arms, and an anemone rose from his blood. (Information provided by Naia)
[I'm not entirely sure of any of these words, please correct me if I'm wrong.]
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Disclaimer: Duh… (My disclaimers are getting a bit boring, aren't they?)