The Night Starts Here
The scary part, the aftershock, the moment it takes to fall apart.
The time we have, the task at hand, the love it takes to destroy a man.
The ecstasy, the being free, that big black cloud over you and me.
And after that, the upwards fall, and were we angels after all?
August 12, 2017
"Rose! Rose! Dad's taking me to the Puddlemere Quidditch game tomorrow, and he got us three tickets, one for me, and one for him, and one for whoever I want to take! Do you wanna come?"
"Ooh, Al! Of course I do! You're the best friend ever! Do you think that Puddlemere will win? I do, because I've been looking at some statistics, and I did a few calculations and Johnson has a higher average in goals than Dawish does, and, hey! Hugo, give me back my book! I wanted to show it to Uncle Harry!"
Hugo ran away, only to be caught almost immediately by Albus.
"Al! Geoff me!"
"Then give me Rose's book!"
"Hugo's getting beat up by Al!" Exclaimed Lily as soon as she ran into the room.
"Stop whinging Lily!"
"Mummy! James told me to stop whinging!"
"Settle down, you midgets!"
"Uncle Ron! Did you bring Hugo's and Rose's brooms? Can we play Quidditch? Huh? Can we? Can we?"
The Weasley household, despite the relatively small number of visitors, was in complete chaos. Molly Weasley, in her element amongst her youngest grandchildren, bustled around, giving away hugs and kisses in-between checking on her dinner and repairing various picture frames and pottery pieces knocked over by the five wild children running around the house.
"Oh Hermione dear, thanks so much for coming over tonight. You know how much I adore seeing the children."
"Thank you for having us, Molly. I'm still not sure how you manage it all."
She laughed. "You seem to have the touch, Hermione, Rose and Hugo are such dears."
"It's not fair that you get to go to the game and not me!" Hugo moaned.
"Well maybe if you didn't whinge so much Al would like you better and you could've been the one who he picked," came Rose's quick reply.
"Well, at least I'm not a know-it-all."
"At least I'm not brainless!"
Hermione smiled ironically. "Ah yes, regular angels those two are."
Molly chuckled. "They're siblings, dear. It's only natural that they bicker all the time."
"You're so ugly, you scare blind people away."
"You're so stupid, you can't get from A to B without going through the rest of the alphabet!"
"You're so ugly you have to sneak up on a mirror!
"You're so stupid, your brain cell died of loneliness!"
"What's this? My two favorite niblings arguing?"
"Uncle Harry!" Rose and Hugo chorused, immediately forgetting their argument.
Hermione entered the room in time to see Rose jump into Harry's waiting arms. He spun her around a few times, then set her, giggling, on the ground. He then ruffled Hugo's hair; he laughed and ran away.
"Uncle Harry, how many times do I have to tell you that 'nibling' isn't a real word?"
"Sure it is, nymph. It's a neologism."
Rose wrinkled her nose. "That doesn't mean it's a real word, just that it's made up!"
"Well then, how do new words ever get created Miss Smarty Pants?" Harry teased.
Rose giggled. "When they get put in a book!"
Harry smiled fondly at her. "So, when I write a book and use the word 'nibling' then it'll be real?"
Rose seemed to contemplate this for a moment. "I guess so. But I don't think you're going to write a book, Uncle Harry."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Mum says that you're not a very good writer."
Hermione laughed. Harry glanced up at her, surprised, over the top of Rose's head, but then grinned, looking back down at Rose. "She said that, did she?"
Rose nodded eagerly. "Yeah, but she also said that," she paused as though wanting to quote her mother's exact words, "that you were really good at talking. She said that you could inspire a million people if you wanted to because you really believe what you're talking about, and that that's the reason why you're not a good writing-you think it's too passive."
"Well, I think your mum's got me figured out, eh?" Harry asked looking directly at Hermione.
Hermione's breath caught.
"Duh, Uncle Harry! My mum knows you better than anyone in the whole world! She knows your favorite Bertie Botts flavour, and your favorite song, and your favorite-"
Hermione interrupted. "Rose, honey, why don't you go see if Grandma Molly could use some help setting up the kitchen?"
Rose looked disappointed; Hermione couldn't blame her.
"Okay mum, but I still want to show Harry my book."
"When you're done helping Grandma Molly."
"Okay!" She raced off, leaving an awkward silence behind.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it into an even more unmanageable state. "Hello, Hermione."
"Hello, Harry."
Hermione twirled a lock of hair around her fingers. "Rose is convinced you're going to teach her everything there is to know about wandless magic before she goes to school in September."
Harry laughed, albeit softly. "Well, she's a bright girl, not to mention very powerful. I'm sure she'll be a master of it someday; better than you and I combined."
"Only time will tell I suppose." Hermione responded, biting her lip.
They fell silent, Harry looking at Hermione closely and Hermione avoiding his gaze.
"Hermione-"
"Don't, Harry."
"I was going to ask you how work was."
She met his gaze. "You were not."
"No, you're right, I wasn't." His eyes bore into hers, not giving way, even after admitting to his fib.
Hermione's breath hitched in her throat; she felt a jolt in her stomach-a combination of nervousness and something she didn't feel like naming at the moment.
"Harry, I can't-"
"Can't what, Hermione? Speak to me?"
Frustration seeped into her voice. "Not when you look at me like that, no."
Tense silence. The kind that fills the very room and threatens to suffocate its occupants. The kind that fills the air with a feeling that is hard to identify-a strange mixture of restraint and desperation.
"Mum, I finished helping Grandma-"
Hermione jumped; she noticed that Harry did as well.
Her daughter looked at them both suspiciously.
"What's going on?" She accused.
Harry forced a grin; it didn't meet his eyes. "We were just talking about you, oh favorite niece of mine. Your mum tells me you have a book to show me."
Rose's eyes lit up, biting into the distraction. "Oh yeah! Lemme go get it, Uncle Harry! I'll be right back!"
She left, taking the escape from discomfited silence with her.
"Distraction by book. It never fails."
The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched upward. "Used that one before, have you?"
"Once or twice." He grinned. Her heart jumped.
"Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!" Rose yelled as she thundered into the room. "I got my book, but my dense brother ripped the cover. Stupid berk." She muttered.
"Rose." Hermione scolded gently.
Harry snickered and waved his hand over the cover. Rose watched, mystified, as the rip sealed itself.
"That's so cool, Uncle Harry! Can you start teaching me now, before dinner?"
"Sure, nymph, let's get to it."
Watching them, Hermione felt something akin to sadness well up from within her. She cleared her throat, in a futile attempt to reign in the feeling. "Well, I'll just, pop in to say hello to the rest of the family."
Harry looked up, giving her a piercing look.
*Don't look at me like that Harry. For the love of Merlin, stop looking at me like that.*
"When you come back I'm going to be better than wandless magic than you are, Mum!" Rose giggled.
Hermione could only manage a faint smile before she quickly left the room. She flattened her back to the wall of the hallway, her breath surprisingly irregular.
Hot, hot, heat, the friction of two bodies, of two hearts. The taste of ecstasy, of being free. The flight of senses, the wild abandon. Poised on the brink of a pit of insanity, on the brink of feral passion.
She took a shaky breath, closing her eyes as though to ward off thoughts unwanted.
"Like this, Uncle Harry?"
"Yes, that's perfect, nymph. Now close your eyes. That's it. Relax even a bit more. Breathe in, and out. There you are. Deep, just like that. Now concentrate, but don't tense up. Stay relaxed, but keep your goal in mind. Do you see it?"
Hermione couldn't resist peaking around the corner. They both sat on the floor of the room, legs crossed, facing each other. Rose, eyes closed and breathing deeply, perched her hands over Harry's wand, which lay out in front of her. Harry watched her intently.
"Feel the magic of the wand in front of you. Call that magic to you, gently now, just will it towards you. Feel the magic, call the magic."
The wand flew into her hand. Her eyes snapped open. Hermione's mouth dropped; Harry's eyes widened in surprise.
"I did it! I did it!" She squealed, jumping up. "Uncle Harry I did it!"
Hermione turned away, walking away from the scene at a brisk pace. Not a moment too soon, Hermione arrived in one of the living rooms, which was blissfully empty, though she could hear children shrieking not too far off.
"Mummy! Mummy! I did it! I did it!" Rose came barreling into the room, nearly knocking Hermione over. "I did wandless magic mum! Real, controlled, wandless magic!"
Hermione couldn't hold back the few tears that escaped.
Rose, always perceptive and thoughtful, immediately stopped her celebration. "Mum? Why are you crying?"
It was all she could do to not burst into sobs. "Oh, darling, I'm just so proud of you. Not only are you intelligent, but just look how powerful you are-controlled wandless magic, and at the young age of eleven." Hermione paused, wiping away her tears and beaming at her daughter. "You're going to do so many great things Rose Weasley, and I'm very proud to call you my daughter."
Rose flushed, looking rather pleased with herself, but trying to hide it all the same. "Really?"
"Really, really." Hermione wrapped her daughter into a crushing hug.
"I'm sure," came Harry's voice, "that both your parents are very, very proud of you, Rose."
Hermione did not look up; she continued to hold her daughter-her lifeline, steadying her as she wobbled precariously on the brink.
A/N: Couldn't resist throwing in a few of my favorite insult jokes from back in the elementary school days. Good times.