Darkness is My Light

Chapter 10

Ron was thoroughly distracted as he walked around Muggle London. Thus he was entirely surprised when he bumped into a small, blond haired girl. She was in a blue sundress with a white jacket that half covered the bag she had slung across her torso.

"Oh, I'm really sorry. Are you ok?" he asked helping the little girl pick up the things that had spilled from her bag.

She was far too young to be walking around the city by herself. She could not be more than nine years old, Ron thought.

"Hey, honey, where's your family?" he asked concerned.

She mumbled something too softly for him to hear. Ron frowned. He reached for the last thing on the ground, a scroll, but paused. It was sealed with a green family crest that looked vaguely familiar to him. It was so intricate that Ron doubted that hours of viewing it would be sufficient enough to notice every twist and turn. He tried to place it, when the little girl hastily shoved the scroll back into her bag.

"There you are!"

A teenage girl ran over to Ron and the little blonde. Her brown hair was a mess and fell into her face.

"Stupid girl," she said impatiently. "Getting lost and bothering strangers."

The girl jerked her head up. Ron was taken aback by her piercing eyes which sparkled under her dark make-up.

"Sorry, Sir. My cousin isn't one to stay put."

"Umm. It's, it's fine," Ron stuttered, uncomfortable at the girl's harsh tone.

The brown haired girl nodded to him once and dragged her younger cousin away. Ron stood watching them disappear into a large brick building. At first, he could not place his finger on what had bothered him so much about the encounter.

But then, as he walked into the restaurant, it hit him.

"She called me 'Sir'! Wow, I feel so old," he said to himself sounding affronted.

"You are old, Ron," the man across the table said.

Ron glared at him.

"Shut up, Harry."

Harry grinned at him evilly but remained quiet. Ron ordered their food from the waiter and sat back. Harry was drawing on his napkin with a blue pen. After moments of awkward silence, Ron spoke up.

"You know if you don't actually talk to me, we've got no reason to be here."

Harry laughed.

"Aww, Ron I knew you wanted to hear me talk."

Ron twisted his face into a mock grimace.

"Well someone's got to, what with Hermione on her impromptu vacation and all."

The waiter came by with their drinks but Ron did not even take notice of him and stared at Harry anxiously.

"How long's she gone anyway?"

Harry took a sip of his beer before responding nonchalantly.

"Oh just a few days, I think."

"Oh that's good. She's been gone ... what? Five days now? And Merlin knows you can't keep your flat clean without her!"

Ron joked as the waiter came by with their food. Harry looked down at his fork and chuckled.

"You know, Ron, we really ought to see each other more often. What kind of best friends only meet when their schedules coincide?"

Ron leaned his head back and laughed heartily.

"Harry Potter I do believe that you have not changed one bit since we left Hogwarts."

Harry smirked to himself as Ron began to eat.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron. I'm pretty sure I'm a bit taller."

Ron choked on his food laughing and had to spit his mouthful into his napkin.

* * * *

"Delia, why on earth did you wander off like that? I asked you to do one thing and that was to stay put while I fixed everything for Narcissa."

May lectured her little cousin exasperated.

She lowered her voice, "Honestly, Dee, don't you want Mrs. Narcissa's celebration to be perfect?"

Delia kept her eyes firmly focused on the ground and muttered a confirmation for what May had just said and another apology. May continued to lecture her angrily on the dangers of being downtown by herself when Delia shouted at her.

"You aren't my mother!"

"No, I'm not, am I, Delia?"

May fell silent immediately after shouting her response. The room was silent and the air was heavy with underlying truths in May's statement. Delia now did break out into tears at the thought of the mother who May could never be. May exhaled loudly, fighting back tears, and bit her lip.

"Dee..." she began, unable to look at her sobbing cousin.

Delia plopped down to the ground and continued to sob, reminding May just how young the little blonde was. Guiltily, May picked up Delia in her arms and carried the sobbing child through the hallway to her room. May closed the door behind her and placed the still crying Delia in bed.

May pulled up a chair to her cousin's bed and sat down. After many moments of silence, interrupted only by Delia's sobs, May began to speak in a soft voice.

"When I was nine, which is just a little older than you are now, your mother used to visit mine. She was wearing blue, much like you are now. You know that blue was her favorite color?"

Delia's sobs began to slow, with longer increments of time between them, as she listened to the story.

"They sat on the terrace and drank tea. You were just a baby then; not even one year old. Your mom had you wrapped in a blue blanket, and you were so tiny that there was four times more blanket than there was you."

Here, Delia's last sob came strangled from her throat and her breath evened out.

"And she said that she loved you very much and ..."

May looked at Delia, who was now asleep, and tucked the covers over her motionless form. After exiting the room, May stood in the hallway, leaning against Delia's bedroom door. Composing herself May headed down the hallway - dark brown wood from floor to ceiling that made May feel very small - to the kitchen to make Narcissa her afternoon tea. She picked out Narcissa's favorite tea and placed the cup on a tray with some biscuits. Balancing the tray, Delia opened the kitchen door and headed for Narcissa's garden room. She carried the tray up the Western Staircase for four flights and then down the hallway to the garden room.

After leaving the tea and biscuits on the table, May left the garden and headed towards the Eastern Staircase. Halfway down the hallway she paused at a sound next to her. Turning slowly, May looked at the door in disbelief. The sound seemed to be louder now that she had recognized it: ragged breathing, sobs being ripped unwillingly from a constricted throat.

No... she shook her head, eyes wide, her feet dragging her towards the door in question. No way. That woman couldn't be that stupid. Unless...unless she didn't know.

May reached for the door handle, already feeling apprehensive. She opened the door and confirmed what she had heard. Hermione was in the bed, no longer struggling, eyes fluttering wildly. May looked down at her in slight disgust.

"Well, aren't you almost dead? I thought you witches were supposed to be smart."

May grabbed Hermione's wrist in her hands and pulled. But it was no use, Hermione would not budge. Who knows how long she had been in the bed by now as it sucked the life out of her. May tried again, pulling hard, bracing her feet against the bed for leverage. The harder May pulled, the more Hermione was being sucked down into the bed by the twisted, transparent hands of long dead spirits. May felt icy cold as the ghosts of dead girls and boys clawed at her arms and legs.

"Back off you lousy ghosts!" she shouted at them.

"You can't get me, I'm a Muggle!"

The ghosts slowed and spoke to each other in a language May did not know. She used their moment of slack to drag Hermione out of the bed. May pushed Hermione ahead of her into the hallway, where the bushy haired girl collapsed. May shut the door behind them and glared at Hermione's prone form. She sighed and pulled Hermione up and began to drag her to the room May had made up for her.

"Stupid woman. Comin' in here and cause all sorts of troubles at the Manor. Don't know how he stands for it."

Even though the girl was unconscious, May tried her best to keep her spiteful tone at bay. As she deposited the girl on the perfectly made bed, she acknowledged the fact that she had failed.