Ch. 28: Passing Time

Song For This Chapter: Glory and Gore — Lorde

     Just like everything, time was passing us all by, ticking the days away like wax held to a flame. It trickled down and bubbled into nothing. But, we were happy.

     Most of the days were spent in comfortable silence, each of us at work, keeping ourselves busy and trying not to think about the fact that, at any moment, our hiding place could be compromised. Trying not to think of the fact that we were as malleable, as breakable, as fleeting as the days were short. 

     Fred and George were busy every day, working in the backroom of Aunt Muriel's manor, much to her chagrin, cooking up new and exciting recipes while shipping out the common treats and bobbles that they had become famous for. Occasionally, I helped.

     Most days, however, there wasn't really much to do. 

     Blake and Molly and I had all grown a bit closer, holding conversations about anything that we could think of, just to pass the time. There was one conversation that stuck out from the rest between Blake and me, which was a continual reminder for me about the war looming all around us.

     Sitting outside, in Aunt Muriel's greenhouse, surrounded by blooming, pink buds, I found Blake taking a light stroll, talking quietly to the plants that surrounded her. "Talking to plants, huh?" I called. "Have you turned into Luna?"

     "Hardly," Blake mused, turning to smile at me as I approached, her fingers playing with a waxy leaf on one of the plants. "I read somewhere that if you talk to plants, they grow better."

     I arched a brow and tried not to laugh. "Oh, really?" 

     It was a nice, spring day. A few days before, we had celebrated the Twin's birthday and it had been such a delightful time that the after effects of the joyfulness were still wearing off, making everyone --even Aunt Muriel-- have a slight pep to their step. Bending down, I leveled with one of the sprouting buds and offered it a little 'hello'.

     "See," Blake started, "it's happier and healthier already."

      "Don't you think that's simply due to the fact that I breathed carbon dioxide on it?"

      Blake shuffled down the aisle where more plants were waiting to be talked at, ignoring my inquiry with a quiet whistle. "Hello, little sprout!"

     Shaking my head, I followed her, inhaling the sweet aroma of the greenhouse and breathing it back out to 'feed' the plants, as Blake would put it. The golden arches of light from the fading sun illuminated the greenery and made the whole scene seem heavenly, as if we had reached a new plane of existence. Breathing in once more, I could almost smell the sun mixed in with the scent of flowers, earth, and shrubbery. 

     "So, how is work, Blake?" I asked, matching my pace with hers as we walked around the various, scattered pots and bags of soil on the cobbled path. She didn't perk up with her usual spirit, I noticed, and it took me off guard. "Everything all right at St. Mungo's?"

     "I don't work there anymore." Blake kept her eyes steady as she picked off a caterpillar from a leaf. Sizing it up, Blake frowned at the fat, short, green bug and turned, opening a sliding window in the glass panels and tossing him out. I waited for her to continue. "I had to take a short leave actually, Liza," she met my eyes softly, "due to the danger of being involved with the Weasleys."

     I frowned. "What about your parents," I knew it wasn't my place and I knew it was a sore subject for her, but I had to know. "Are they alright? Do they need shelter?" 

     Blake hardened her brow and she tore her eyes from mine, refusing to make eye contact. I understood what she didn't say and I decided not to press her any further on that subject. The Death Eaters still had her parents. 

     We walked in silence for a little bit, quietly approached the entrance. Blake rubbed her hands together and then touched my arm with a gentle nature, as if something just dawned on her. "Mrs Belvedere is healed."

     Immediately, I perked up, thinking about the young woman with the purple splotches all over her body that I had tried so hard to counter-act. "Really?" 

     "Yes! I forgot to mention it, due to this whole mess, but the last medicine you made really helped." Relief washed through my bloodstream as I saw Blake's usual nature return, reigniting the gleam in her eye as she focused on the good rather than the bad. 

     "Truly?" I beamed, excited that she was healed of her affliction. I had done something right; all that work hadn't been for nothing.

      Blake chuckled at the tone in my voice, probably finding it funny at how excited I was by the news. It wasn't every day that I healed someone, unlike her, so I was elated. "She wanted me to thank you." However, Blake trailed off, her gaze growing cold once more as she thought about our little, make-shift hospital and the nights spent there. "I wish things were different."

      So did I.

     People who couldn't get help due to their blood status had come from all over, in the hopes that Blake would be able to help them. And, she had. It was amazing and it was selfless, but Blake had done it. Maybe, I thought to myself, there was still a way we could help others.

     "Blake," I began, lacing my fingers together in quiet contemplation as we approached the door to the greenhouse, as the horizon was beginning to grow dark, struck with an idea, "what if we could still help these people? I mean," I weighed the thoughts in my head, nodding from side to side as I tried to word out my suggestion best, "I know it won't be the same as last time -- but, we could have mail order medicine... or something," my voice drew quieter and quieter the more she remained stone-faced and solemn at my words. 

     There was a dullness to her eyes as she eagerly nodded, trying to fake the excitment that came naturally to her, out of kindness for my idea. "That could be really neat, Elle! But," she shot down the inquiry before I even asked, her face hard as she sighed, "but, that's impractical."

     "I used to be able to get all the great ingredients from St. Mungo's, but, now that we're in hiding, all of us," she smiled softly at me and I bobbed my head up and down, as if that was what she wanted me to do to show I understood where she was coming from, "I think we need to take care of ourselves. Just for a little while, until things blow over."

     "You're right."

✧

      It was dark when I walked to the backroom, a heavy cloud of haze growing thicker and thicker as I pushed open the wooden door and peaked my head in to smile at Fred. Bent over the large, old oak desk in the back with huge, blue rimmed goggles over his eyes and a wicked grin on his face, Fred was hard at work. I smirked at the twinkle of madness in his eye, his red hair messy and in disarray, sticking in odd directions as he hovered over a huge pewter pot of bowling potion.

      Carefully, at my entrance, Fred slid the goggles onto the top of his head, making eye contact with me and waving me to come into the room. I didn't trust that michevious look on his face, but I came into the backroom anyway, dodging George as he sprung out from the other corner, balancing three large, glass vials in his arms.

        "What cha up to in here, guys?" I prodded with a weary voice.

      "We," Fred pulled out a ladle from the pile of silverware on the desk, using it to scoop out a bright pink, buttery looking piece of candy, "are working on perfecting a new toffee, Letter." George nodded at the mess of vials and empty glass beakers on the counter spaces while Fred lightly blew on the piece of toffee, carefully picking it off the ladle once it was cool to the touch.

        "Here, try it."

       I eyed him warily, crossing my arms over my chest as I turned my head, just as Fred tried to jam it into my mouth. I knew him too well. "What is it you're working on, exactly?"

     The corner of Fred's mouth slipped up into a half-smile, not making me feel any more secure about the proposition. "Have a little faith in me, L."

      Squinting at him, I lightly picked up the toffee from his fingers. It was sticky to the touch and left an odd film on my fingers as I slipped it into my mouth. "If I die," I told him, a tad muttered as I chewed messily, "I'll haunt you."

       Grinning, Fred leant over the desk towards me and stared straight into my eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

       That took me back. It took me back to land before the looming darkness, to before I had to worry about Hermione and Ron and Harry, before life was more complex than remembering to wake up and attend my classes. It was a weird feeling in the pit of my gut. 

     Fred and I stared at each other, both in our respected thoughts as we waited for something, anything to happen. I didn't know what to expect. Hell, Fred could have been trying to murder me and I would have taken it without really questioning any of it.

     I didn't feel anything. Nothing at all.

      "I don't think it worked, F--"

      "--Wicked," Fred cheered loudly, earning a second cheer from George as he looked up from his own workstation and grinned at me. It was my favourite grin, the one where his eyes crinkled at the corners and ignited his whole face in light. Fred, shocking me, bounded from around the desk and lifted me from the ground, twirling me around. I giggled, confused but beaming down at him with a brow perched up on my forehead. 

     "What? Did it work?" I asked, feeling my hair fly around my head as he spun us, setting me down beside him. "I didn't feel anything."

      With a cracked, old-fashioned hand mirror in hand, George approached the two of us and flashed my reflection back at me. Frowning, I took the mirror and glared at the image of myself. The person looking back at me was different, but not entirely. 

       It was my eyes, I noted, that made myself seem like an entirely different person. Instead of my usual, brown hue, they were now shining a beautiful, pale green colour. "Wow, that's... woah," I touched my cheek and looked up at him, flashing a dramatic, modelesque pose. "How do I look?" 

      There was a time, not so long ago, that I would have killed for any other coloured eyes than boring brown. But, now that I had grown up, and grown into my skin, I had found a particular fondness for my eyes.

     "You look good." Fred nodded, pecking my cheek and taking the mirror from my hands. "But, I miss your brown eyes."

      I rolled my new eyes and shook my head at him, however, I was glad that he agreed with me. "How long does this last?"

      From across the room, George chuckled awkwardly, causing me to pause. 

      "Well, you know how it's almost perfect?"

      "What," I stressed, watching Fred creep over to his brother like a dog afraid of being reprimanded. "Do. You. Mean."

      "Don't worry, Letter," Fred said, behind George as his brother ignored the both of us, a small look of amusement on his face as he added bright green liquid to his own pewter pot, "it'll wear off eventually."

      "Eventually!?" 

     Fred scratched the back of his neck. "Your eyes are beginning to really scare me, actually. George, do we have something to make the reaction faster?" He looked back at me then back to George, lowering his tone. "Or, perhaps an antidote idea to revert the colour whenever they'd like?" 

      "I think an antidote candy would be a better bet," George told Fred, sparking a conversation about the eye candy effects and why people would use them, versus quality over quantity of time. 

      They continued to talk for some time, lost in a tangent of business. 

     I ran a hand over my face and heaved a heavy sigh, but found some peace with the release of air. It was nothing to be really concerned about, to be perfectly honest. And, a change of pace would be fun for a little while. Instead of arguing with the pair, I merely sat myself down into a discarded stool and watched the two of them talk animatedly about their passion.

      It made me happy that they found something to be happy about in this time. 

      It also made me think of Hermione. She would have never approved of this when we were younger. I could still remember the way she reacted in fifth year when the first year, Nigel, vomited blood all over the Common Room floor and passed out. It had been rather scary, thinking back to it, but the things students would do to get out of class were outstanding.

      I missed her.

      The trio were still recuperating at the Shell Cottage, but I was sure they would be back on their way soon, if they weren't already. I wanted to see her, at least one last time before they left again, if I could. 

     "Something the matter?" Fred asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

     I tapped his hand with mine and shook my head. "Not at all." I peered up at him and wondered, for a tiny moment, how Fred would feel if I told him I was going to see her. "How would you feel if I told you I wanted to visit Hermione tonight?"

      "Sure," Fred shrugged it off, which took me off guard, "just be safe about it."

      "That's it? Sure?"

      Fred smirked. "Elle, you know I trust you. And, you trust me. If you want to see Hermione, who would I be to stop you?" 

     "Yeah," George added, "but, there's a chance they may not even be there."

      That was a chance I was willing to take.

✧

      The air on the beach was cold, the wind tearing right through me as the sea and the rain beat against each other, creating a symphony of watery sound in my ears. Even in the dark, under a cloud of rain and storm, I could see the little grave sight in the distance. Poor, little Dobby.

     In my chest, my heart quickened. I was worried that I was too late, that Harry and Hermione and Ron had all already left. If that was the case, I didn't know when I would next see her, see them.

      My knock echoed through the potentially empty home. 

     The white-washed, paint peeling door slowly opened to reveal my sister, dishevelled and looking around in fear before her eyes settled onto me, her eyes calming a bit but still confused as she saw me. "Elle?"

     "Hey!" I smiled, happy I hadn't missed her. "I wanted to see you, see how everything was going."

      Hermione pulled open the door so I could come in, her face open and accepting, but tired and worn. I was sure, by the bags under her eyes, that she was having trouble sleeping. "What happened to your eyes?" 

     "Oh," I rubbed one of them, forgetting about the change for a moment, "Ha, it's a work thing."

      "The illegal drug ring one?" Hermione teased.

      My lips curved up and I shook my head. "Nah, the illegal candy ring one."

     Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or not, I could tell by the way her face scrunched up into a half-smile, half-concerned mask. But, she shook it off and motioned for me to follow her. "Elle, I'm actually glad you're here. I wanted to show you something, and I'd like your opinion on it."

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special thank you to DheekshaGokul ! she made the graphic in this chapter, as well as the gif in the last one (: i love them both so much !

More to come soon.

Also,... the end is sooner (and farther) than you think.