FIC: "Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines" for dexstarr
Recipient: dexstarr
Author: ???
Title: Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines
Rating: Teen and up
Pairings: Irma Pince/Eloise Midgen
Word Count: 3600
Medium: fic
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Irma learns to rebuild
Author's/Artist's Notes: Title shamelessly stolen by the Dylan Thomas poem of the same name.
The library was in shambles, and Irma sat still and silent on what seemed to be the only chair still in one piece amongst the ruins. She stared at the long rows of shelves that had once towered nearly to the ceiling but were now collapsed like dominoes, their contents spilled onto the floor. Dust still hung thick in the air, tickling her eyes and the back of her throat, but for a long time she watched as the motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the broken windows. She couldn't bear yet to look at the books scattered on the floor, knee deep in some places, their spines broken, pages shredded, some turned to ash.
She'd fought just as fiercely as anyone else, and had enjoyed the look of surprise in the Death Eaters, particularly the Carrow twins, when they discovered where her alliance lay and how wrong their assumptions had been, and more, the look of pride from Minerva, who had always known what Irma had lost in her youth and what she held in her heart. In the midst of the battle, she had hid the younger students in the carrels, and when that was no longer safe, had stood her ground at her librarian's desk fortified with thousands of books until the children had been led safely away. This was her mess, and she raised her chin, finally looking at the destruction in full. These had been her armaments, her sword and shield, these books that had been her friends, her refuge, which she had protected for years from careless students with their sticky fingers and disregard for margins until this final battle when she had wielded them in their defense.
It'd been a little over a week since the battle for Hogwarts had been fought and won. The dead had been buried and Irma had stood alongside the professors and staff at each student's funeral, whether current or former, back ramrod straight and hands clenched into fists though she did not cry. She knew she had long ago run out of tears, wrung dry in the first war that saw all she loved wrenched from her. Instead, she had silently recited the books each student had borrowed, her own panegyric to the dead, and wished peace for them, and their families, and for herself as well.
She was home now, amongst her stacks, and ready to rebuild. They had the summer before the first students would arrive, though there wouldn't be many. While Minerva dealt with the Ministry and the contractors to rebuild the castle, and led Hagrid and Wilhelmina to recover the grounds, Irma was determined that the library would be made ready as well to once again offer refuge to those who needed it in the months to come.
"There's work to be done," she whispered before she drew her shoulders back and her wand from her sleeve. She had been needed and she had stood tall; she could do so once more.
***
It was early July, just past the full moon, and the heat of summer was oppressive even in the north country. Irma heaved one last stack of books onto one of the long study tables, taking just a moment to be pleased at her progress. The floor was nearly clear, her books in neat piles by subject, ready to be catalogued. She dusted her hands, twisted at her waist first to one side and then the other, her back giving a dull pop that eased some of the ache away. She used the skirt of her apron to mop the sweat from her face before she slid into a chair and slouched in a way she would have never allowed any student to do. She was hot and tired, though it wasn't quite noon yet, and she would have to make time for lunch soon but for now, she rested her body if not her mind, mentally making one of her endless lists for the things she had left to do that day.
It had taken nearly two weeks to shift and stack the books that could be salvaged. Irma insisted on doing the work by herself, turning down offers of help from the house elves. It was a slow, careful job to salvage what she could amongst the rubble but she liked the work, liked the silence. The herbology and runes sections had suffered the most damage but no part of her library had been spared. Whole books had been sacrificed, particularly the thick tomes that had been used as battlements for Irma's make-shift fort. She had saved what she could but had been ruthless in culling those that had been hammered by black magic, their pages curled and rotted, heavy with the smell of brimstone. She had made note of titles and authors when she could, knowing her library held some rare editions that could never be replaced.
Irma shook her head as if to clear it. She refused to dwell on what could not be changed; it had certainly never served her well in the past. She let her thoughts turn instead to the summer when she first came back to Hogwarts to serve as librarian. It was a little over fifteen years ago exactly and unbearably hot then, too. She'd been angry, mired in a different kind of grief, one that had been very personal. She'd taken comfort in similar work, bringing order to the chaos left by her predecessor, discovering how easy it was to be alone. She nearly laughed out loud when she realized that was her train of thought at the same moment she heard the voice calling for her from the front of the library.
Standing, she steadied herself with a hand to the table and then patted her hair in place. "I'm here," she called, expecting to see Minerva and so surprised to see a young woman carefully making her way along the tipped shelves with a tray in her hands. "Mind your robes, and don't tread in the dust piles," she warned.
"No, ma'am. I see them just there."
She was a tall, sturdy girl with brown hair hanging to her broad shoulders. Beneath her robe, she wore Muggle jeans and a blue and white gingham shirt with tiny pink buttons that strained slightly as she moved. The tray she carried held a teapot and cups and few plates of food. Irma nearly smiled at the thought that she'd been missed at lunch, likely by Minerva. Irma missed Professor Dumbledore, who had always been very kind to her, but Minerva was more a kindred spirit, not that this girl needed to know that.
Irma relieved her of the tray and balanced it carefully on a stack of books as she cleared a spot on the table where she could eat. In the fall, she would reinforce her rule of no food in the library but at the moment, it didn't seem to matter much.
The girl took a step back, resting her hands on her hips, and looked around at the library, the expression on her face openly curious. Irma let her be as she unfolded a napkin across her lap, poured a cup of tea and stirred in a bit of milk before taking a small sip. It was good, fresh and hot, and she closed her eyes a bit to savor it before remembering that she wasn't alone. Irritated for forgetting so quickly, Irma reached for a sandwich and wished the girl away; unfortunately, the girl apparently didn't respond to wishes.
"It's a shame all the windows are gone," the girl said after a while as Irma ate in uncomfortable silence. "Though I heard they'll be replaced by the end of the week. It's not likely to be as pretty as it was with new glass. Remember how the old was kind of wavy? I thought it was pretty, particularly when it rained. Isn't it funny that I remember that? We're lucky the weather's held though I suppose."
"We've spells to keep out the rain if it doesn't," Irma answered shortly, wondering how much longer she might be forced to make small talk. She'd didn't do it well but the girl didn't seem inclined to leave.
"Oh yes, ma'am, and birds, too, I suppose."
Irma eyed the girl speculatively while she pulled the crust from her sandwich. There was something familiar about the girl, the way she stood, the way she nervously twirled a curl of hair around her finger as she bit her lip. "I remember you," she said, startlingly the girl for a moment before she brightened, pleased, it seemed, to be remembered at all.
"Do you?"
"Yes. You got jam on page 193 of Marcham's Maddening Posits of Potions in your first year. Elderberry, I believe, and in fifth year, you had to be told twice to return Home Remedies for Witches and Wizards."
"Oh, right. I am sorry."
Irma looked at the girl sternly for several long seconds, searching for the name that went with the offenses. "Eloise," she finally said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I won't be ma'am'd."
"Yes, ma-- Of course not, Madam Pince, not if you don't wish it, though it's a hard habit to break, ma'am. My mum always told me unless I played dolls with someone as wee girl in pigtails and pinafores then I was to say ma'am, so I don't mean nothing by it. It's just that Professor McGonagall thought I might be useful to you here. My spell work isn't quite up to par with the rest of the volunteers, though Jeremy Leafblower's Leviosa is quite wobbly, if you don't mind my saying, and I can at least manage that right enough."
"Can you alphabetize?" Irma asked abruptly, cutting Eloise off.
"Oh, yes, ma'am, very well. My mum, she taught me my letters when I was a babe."
"Then we'll make do."
"Yes, ma'am." Eloise twisted her hands together and looked at her clunky shoes. "Only, it wasn't my spell work that made the others send me away, though it isn't as strong as it ought to be, I'll admit that. I tried to practice at home but my mother didn't want me to. She's afraid and I don't blame her but sometimes-- Well, sometimes folks don't like it. They think that I left school because it was me who was afraid."
"Nonsense. We need hands to do the work and I won't turn a willing set away. What wand work needs done, I can do on my own but right now we need to inventory the books and see what's been lost."
"So, I can work here with you?"
"As long as there's work to be done."
"Thank you, ma'am. I can clean and straighten well enough. My mum works as a maid in one of the big hotels in Bournemouth and sometimes I help during breaks. There's a lot of us Midgens to feed, if you follow, and my dad disappeared some months ago. He was a wizard, you know, and folks say he run off but he was like me. He wouldn't have done unless he had no choice." Eloise's features darkened for a moment and Irma straightened up, a strange desire bubbling up inside her to reach out to Eloise--a stranger, and that was what held her back.
Eloise didn't seem to notice but forced her shoulders back and smiled in a grimly determined way that made Irma admire her. "I can work, ma'am."
"As well as you can talk?" She meant it as a tease but knew her tone sounded sharp and regretted it--another thing with which she was unfamiliar after years of being so solitary, especially as joking had never come easy. Eloise didn't seem to notice but gave a laugh--high and clear, surprised, and Irma knew instinctively that they would get on very well indeed.
***
"Do you think it would work, ma'am? The potions in this book, I mean. I wouldn't mind raven locks or to be tall and thin."
Oftentimes over the last few weeks, Irma would only answer Eloise with barely there noise to let her know she'd been heard as Eloise talked like most people breathed, but this time, Irma stopped what she was doing to look Eloise over. She'd improved since the first day they met, though if Irma was hard pressed, she'd admit to always liking the girl since she'd come to work in the library. She was quick if not particularly bright, kind even when others weren't, and good-natured for all the barbs that were thrown her way.
"You spend too much time worried about your looks, Eloise," she said, turning back to the stack of books she was cataloguing. "You're a good, strong woman, and handsome in your own way."
"Handsome? That's what they say about wizards."
"Striking and imposing in good looks rather than conventionally pretty, is what that means. You don't need raven locks. I like your curls and the color is like-" Irma stopped herself, as unaccustomed to giving praise as Eloise was to hear it.
"Go on, ma'am," Eloise said in her way, which was at once dismissive and eager. She didn't look up from her work but Irma knew she was paying attention--waiting to hear what Irma would say.
"I was going to say like wheat in the fall," Irma finished softly.
"Is that good, ma'am?"
"It's a nice color, yes, at least to me it is. I was very fond once of someone with just that color of hair."
Eloise blushed ruddily, embarrassed but pleased, too. "Thank you, ma'am. No one's given me a compliment in my whole life about my looks. They teased me something awful when I was in school, and my mum say it isn't any good for a girl like me to be pretty. It's best I was born plain, she says."
"My mother said something very similar to me when I was about your age."
"Did she? I imagined you were quite pretty, though, weren't you? I saw the picture in your room when I was tidying up. Hair to your waist, you had, and more curls than me. Only I hope you don't mind me looking. I couldn't help it once I saw it. Couldn't unsee it, if you know what I mean." Eloise slid the last book in her stack onto the shelf in front of her and came to stand next to Irma with her hand warm on Irma's shoulder for just a moment before she drew it back. "I mean, I think you're handsome as well."
***
Irma did know what Eloisa had meant, and thought about it often over the next few weeks, returning to that moment again and again. That night, she had taken down the picture Eloise had seen from where it stood in its frame on the mantel, and stared at it for a long time. She had been pretty, and felt herself so when she was twenty, mostly because she had known she was loved. She wasn't alone in that picture, and Irma wondered what Eloise had thought of that--of the bright eyed girl who had her arms wrapped around Irma's shoulders. It'd been a long time since she'd thought of that day, or those times--happier times. She didn't let herself do it often.
Putting the picture away, Irma moved to stand in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of her body hidden beneath the plain cotton nightgown she wore before she lifted her eyes to gaze at herself. She had been lovely in her youth but hadn't looked at herself with any intention other than cleanliness in many years. She unpinned her hair from the severe bun she usually wore and combed her fingers through the dark strands shot through with gray.
She had smiled more then though she had never been one to laugh like Eloise did. Her years at Hogwarts had been wonderful though the memories had become painful to her, lost in the intervening years of sorrow and hurt. When she'd thought of them before, her mind would curl away from them but now she let herself remember running barefoot across the grounds at midnight, stolen kisses in the astronomy tower, fighting at Marelene's side.
Yes, she'd been in love once--deeply, intensely, and for many years she had felt as though all that was behind her, that she could never love again--that she would never feel again. She smiled now at the thought of Eloise, who thought she was handsome, too. A bare brief smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the young woman's bright eyes. She had never thought she could love again but she knew this feeling. It startled her, and she pressed her hands against her stomach.
Eloise was nearly half Irma's age but had none of the silliness of her contemporaries, who twittered about the castle like so many birds. Eloise was a good soul, steady and practical. She laughed freely, loved easily. It had been surprising when Irma had realized that she considered Eloise a friend, something she hadn't had for a long time, but she knew it was more than that. She couldn't imagine now being without Eloise at her side.
***
It was late August and the evenings had just begun to be cool as the sun set. Tomorrow, the students would arrive, many more than they had expected, but tonight there had been a party for all the volunteers who had helped to rebuild the castle. Irma had stayed behind, wanting to walk along the quiet stacks of the library one last time, but shooed Eloise along to enjoy herself.
Irma was pleased with their work, with the way the polished shelves gleamed in the lantern light, the books lined flush against the edges. In the fall, Irma would travel to London in an effort to replace what had been lost and planned to take Eloise with her as a treat for them both. She paused to straighten Xylographic Xylophagous, her fingers lingering on its spine, as she thought of how happy Eloise had been when Irma had told her, and wished she could be here now.
"Irma?"
Irma startled at the sound of Eloise' voice calling for her in the cavernous library, laughing quietly as she remembered once regretting that Eloise didn't respond to wishes. Perhaps she did. She hadn't expected her back so soon, and reached for her robe, still clutching the book as she hurried down the aisle.
"Eloise, I'm here," Irma called back, mostly just to taste the name on her tongue and to see Eloise smile back at her at the sound of it. She looked lovely in her light blue dress robes and a yellow silk ribbon in her hair, and Irma wondered at herself for ever thinking that Eloise was anything less than beautiful.
"I brought you back a slice of cake."
"Oh, thank you. Come share it with me. Our last meal in the library. Was the party nice?"
"It was loud, I guess, though dinner was good. I wish you had come, though," Eloise said as she swiped a finger through the icing. "The Great Hall looks wonderful. Professor McGonagall restored the charms to the ceiling and it was such a clear night. Won't you come down with me just to see that?"
"I'm already in my night clothes. I hadn't expected to be out but wanted to see the library once last time."
Eloise tilted her head back to look around her, laughing merrily. "Could you have imagined it would be like this?" She asked, and Irma shook her head, answering more than just that question. "There ought to be a plaque just here telling what happened, so that no one can ever forget."
"You know, and that's enough, Eloise, just as I know how hard you worked as well. I couldn't have done it without you," Irma said, both because it was the truth and because she wanted to see Eloise blush in her pleasure even as she brushed off the compliment. She wanted to say more but didn't know how to begin. Eloise seemed to see that and more, as she always seemed to do, and Irma was grateful for her presence.
"Still, you should come with me to see the Great Hall. I know a secret way. We could just look at the ceiling and come back. I'll make some tea after. C'mon."
Irma looked at Eloise' outstretched hand for a long moment before she reached out to her, sliding their fingers together. Eloise' smile grew larger and they left the library on cats' feet, making hardly a sound as they slipped down the hall. It was still warm, warmer still once they slipped into the passage that would lead them past the revelers and into the back of the Great Hall, hidden in the shadows. Above them, the night sky stretched out forever, the thick belt of stars that made up the Milky Way standing in sharp relief against the dark night. It was beautiful, and Irma wondered when the last time was since she enjoyed the sight of the sky--when she had last looked up and just breathed in. She did that now, pressing her shoulder against Eloise as Eloise stood quietly next to her. It was perfect and for a moment Irma felt as though she couldn't breath. She was glad to be home, and no longer alone.
Click here to leave a comment
Author: ???
Title: Light Breaks Where No Sun Shines
Rating: Teen and up
Pairings: Irma Pince/Eloise Midgen
Word Count: 3600
Medium: fic
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Irma learns to rebuild
Author's/Artist's Notes: Title shamelessly stolen by the Dylan Thomas poem of the same name.
The library was in shambles, and Irma sat still and silent on what seemed to be the only chair still in one piece amongst the ruins. She stared at the long rows of shelves that had once towered nearly to the ceiling but were now collapsed like dominoes, their contents spilled onto the floor. Dust still hung thick in the air, tickling her eyes and the back of her throat, but for a long time she watched as the motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the broken windows. She couldn't bear yet to look at the books scattered on the floor, knee deep in some places, their spines broken, pages shredded, some turned to ash.
She'd fought just as fiercely as anyone else, and had enjoyed the look of surprise in the Death Eaters, particularly the Carrow twins, when they discovered where her alliance lay and how wrong their assumptions had been, and more, the look of pride from Minerva, who had always known what Irma had lost in her youth and what she held in her heart. In the midst of the battle, she had hid the younger students in the carrels, and when that was no longer safe, had stood her ground at her librarian's desk fortified with thousands of books until the children had been led safely away. This was her mess, and she raised her chin, finally looking at the destruction in full. These had been her armaments, her sword and shield, these books that had been her friends, her refuge, which she had protected for years from careless students with their sticky fingers and disregard for margins until this final battle when she had wielded them in their defense.
It'd been a little over a week since the battle for Hogwarts had been fought and won. The dead had been buried and Irma had stood alongside the professors and staff at each student's funeral, whether current or former, back ramrod straight and hands clenched into fists though she did not cry. She knew she had long ago run out of tears, wrung dry in the first war that saw all she loved wrenched from her. Instead, she had silently recited the books each student had borrowed, her own panegyric to the dead, and wished peace for them, and their families, and for herself as well.
She was home now, amongst her stacks, and ready to rebuild. They had the summer before the first students would arrive, though there wouldn't be many. While Minerva dealt with the Ministry and the contractors to rebuild the castle, and led Hagrid and Wilhelmina to recover the grounds, Irma was determined that the library would be made ready as well to once again offer refuge to those who needed it in the months to come.
"There's work to be done," she whispered before she drew her shoulders back and her wand from her sleeve. She had been needed and she had stood tall; she could do so once more.
***
It was early July, just past the full moon, and the heat of summer was oppressive even in the north country. Irma heaved one last stack of books onto one of the long study tables, taking just a moment to be pleased at her progress. The floor was nearly clear, her books in neat piles by subject, ready to be catalogued. She dusted her hands, twisted at her waist first to one side and then the other, her back giving a dull pop that eased some of the ache away. She used the skirt of her apron to mop the sweat from her face before she slid into a chair and slouched in a way she would have never allowed any student to do. She was hot and tired, though it wasn't quite noon yet, and she would have to make time for lunch soon but for now, she rested her body if not her mind, mentally making one of her endless lists for the things she had left to do that day.
It had taken nearly two weeks to shift and stack the books that could be salvaged. Irma insisted on doing the work by herself, turning down offers of help from the house elves. It was a slow, careful job to salvage what she could amongst the rubble but she liked the work, liked the silence. The herbology and runes sections had suffered the most damage but no part of her library had been spared. Whole books had been sacrificed, particularly the thick tomes that had been used as battlements for Irma's make-shift fort. She had saved what she could but had been ruthless in culling those that had been hammered by black magic, their pages curled and rotted, heavy with the smell of brimstone. She had made note of titles and authors when she could, knowing her library held some rare editions that could never be replaced.
Irma shook her head as if to clear it. She refused to dwell on what could not be changed; it had certainly never served her well in the past. She let her thoughts turn instead to the summer when she first came back to Hogwarts to serve as librarian. It was a little over fifteen years ago exactly and unbearably hot then, too. She'd been angry, mired in a different kind of grief, one that had been very personal. She'd taken comfort in similar work, bringing order to the chaos left by her predecessor, discovering how easy it was to be alone. She nearly laughed out loud when she realized that was her train of thought at the same moment she heard the voice calling for her from the front of the library.
Standing, she steadied herself with a hand to the table and then patted her hair in place. "I'm here," she called, expecting to see Minerva and so surprised to see a young woman carefully making her way along the tipped shelves with a tray in her hands. "Mind your robes, and don't tread in the dust piles," she warned.
"No, ma'am. I see them just there."
She was a tall, sturdy girl with brown hair hanging to her broad shoulders. Beneath her robe, she wore Muggle jeans and a blue and white gingham shirt with tiny pink buttons that strained slightly as she moved. The tray she carried held a teapot and cups and few plates of food. Irma nearly smiled at the thought that she'd been missed at lunch, likely by Minerva. Irma missed Professor Dumbledore, who had always been very kind to her, but Minerva was more a kindred spirit, not that this girl needed to know that.
Irma relieved her of the tray and balanced it carefully on a stack of books as she cleared a spot on the table where she could eat. In the fall, she would reinforce her rule of no food in the library but at the moment, it didn't seem to matter much.
The girl took a step back, resting her hands on her hips, and looked around at the library, the expression on her face openly curious. Irma let her be as she unfolded a napkin across her lap, poured a cup of tea and stirred in a bit of milk before taking a small sip. It was good, fresh and hot, and she closed her eyes a bit to savor it before remembering that she wasn't alone. Irritated for forgetting so quickly, Irma reached for a sandwich and wished the girl away; unfortunately, the girl apparently didn't respond to wishes.
"It's a shame all the windows are gone," the girl said after a while as Irma ate in uncomfortable silence. "Though I heard they'll be replaced by the end of the week. It's not likely to be as pretty as it was with new glass. Remember how the old was kind of wavy? I thought it was pretty, particularly when it rained. Isn't it funny that I remember that? We're lucky the weather's held though I suppose."
"We've spells to keep out the rain if it doesn't," Irma answered shortly, wondering how much longer she might be forced to make small talk. She'd didn't do it well but the girl didn't seem inclined to leave.
"Oh yes, ma'am, and birds, too, I suppose."
Irma eyed the girl speculatively while she pulled the crust from her sandwich. There was something familiar about the girl, the way she stood, the way she nervously twirled a curl of hair around her finger as she bit her lip. "I remember you," she said, startlingly the girl for a moment before she brightened, pleased, it seemed, to be remembered at all.
"Do you?"
"Yes. You got jam on page 193 of Marcham's Maddening Posits of Potions in your first year. Elderberry, I believe, and in fifth year, you had to be told twice to return Home Remedies for Witches and Wizards."
"Oh, right. I am sorry."
Irma looked at the girl sternly for several long seconds, searching for the name that went with the offenses. "Eloise," she finally said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I won't be ma'am'd."
"Yes, ma-- Of course not, Madam Pince, not if you don't wish it, though it's a hard habit to break, ma'am. My mum always told me unless I played dolls with someone as wee girl in pigtails and pinafores then I was to say ma'am, so I don't mean nothing by it. It's just that Professor McGonagall thought I might be useful to you here. My spell work isn't quite up to par with the rest of the volunteers, though Jeremy Leafblower's Leviosa is quite wobbly, if you don't mind my saying, and I can at least manage that right enough."
"Can you alphabetize?" Irma asked abruptly, cutting Eloise off.
"Oh, yes, ma'am, very well. My mum, she taught me my letters when I was a babe."
"Then we'll make do."
"Yes, ma'am." Eloise twisted her hands together and looked at her clunky shoes. "Only, it wasn't my spell work that made the others send me away, though it isn't as strong as it ought to be, I'll admit that. I tried to practice at home but my mother didn't want me to. She's afraid and I don't blame her but sometimes-- Well, sometimes folks don't like it. They think that I left school because it was me who was afraid."
"Nonsense. We need hands to do the work and I won't turn a willing set away. What wand work needs done, I can do on my own but right now we need to inventory the books and see what's been lost."
"So, I can work here with you?"
"As long as there's work to be done."
"Thank you, ma'am. I can clean and straighten well enough. My mum works as a maid in one of the big hotels in Bournemouth and sometimes I help during breaks. There's a lot of us Midgens to feed, if you follow, and my dad disappeared some months ago. He was a wizard, you know, and folks say he run off but he was like me. He wouldn't have done unless he had no choice." Eloise's features darkened for a moment and Irma straightened up, a strange desire bubbling up inside her to reach out to Eloise--a stranger, and that was what held her back.
Eloise didn't seem to notice but forced her shoulders back and smiled in a grimly determined way that made Irma admire her. "I can work, ma'am."
"As well as you can talk?" She meant it as a tease but knew her tone sounded sharp and regretted it--another thing with which she was unfamiliar after years of being so solitary, especially as joking had never come easy. Eloise didn't seem to notice but gave a laugh--high and clear, surprised, and Irma knew instinctively that they would get on very well indeed.
***
"Do you think it would work, ma'am? The potions in this book, I mean. I wouldn't mind raven locks or to be tall and thin."
Oftentimes over the last few weeks, Irma would only answer Eloise with barely there noise to let her know she'd been heard as Eloise talked like most people breathed, but this time, Irma stopped what she was doing to look Eloise over. She'd improved since the first day they met, though if Irma was hard pressed, she'd admit to always liking the girl since she'd come to work in the library. She was quick if not particularly bright, kind even when others weren't, and good-natured for all the barbs that were thrown her way.
"You spend too much time worried about your looks, Eloise," she said, turning back to the stack of books she was cataloguing. "You're a good, strong woman, and handsome in your own way."
"Handsome? That's what they say about wizards."
"Striking and imposing in good looks rather than conventionally pretty, is what that means. You don't need raven locks. I like your curls and the color is like-" Irma stopped herself, as unaccustomed to giving praise as Eloise was to hear it.
"Go on, ma'am," Eloise said in her way, which was at once dismissive and eager. She didn't look up from her work but Irma knew she was paying attention--waiting to hear what Irma would say.
"I was going to say like wheat in the fall," Irma finished softly.
"Is that good, ma'am?"
"It's a nice color, yes, at least to me it is. I was very fond once of someone with just that color of hair."
Eloise blushed ruddily, embarrassed but pleased, too. "Thank you, ma'am. No one's given me a compliment in my whole life about my looks. They teased me something awful when I was in school, and my mum say it isn't any good for a girl like me to be pretty. It's best I was born plain, she says."
"My mother said something very similar to me when I was about your age."
"Did she? I imagined you were quite pretty, though, weren't you? I saw the picture in your room when I was tidying up. Hair to your waist, you had, and more curls than me. Only I hope you don't mind me looking. I couldn't help it once I saw it. Couldn't unsee it, if you know what I mean." Eloise slid the last book in her stack onto the shelf in front of her and came to stand next to Irma with her hand warm on Irma's shoulder for just a moment before she drew it back. "I mean, I think you're handsome as well."
***
Irma did know what Eloisa had meant, and thought about it often over the next few weeks, returning to that moment again and again. That night, she had taken down the picture Eloise had seen from where it stood in its frame on the mantel, and stared at it for a long time. She had been pretty, and felt herself so when she was twenty, mostly because she had known she was loved. She wasn't alone in that picture, and Irma wondered what Eloise had thought of that--of the bright eyed girl who had her arms wrapped around Irma's shoulders. It'd been a long time since she'd thought of that day, or those times--happier times. She didn't let herself do it often.
Putting the picture away, Irma moved to stand in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of her body hidden beneath the plain cotton nightgown she wore before she lifted her eyes to gaze at herself. She had been lovely in her youth but hadn't looked at herself with any intention other than cleanliness in many years. She unpinned her hair from the severe bun she usually wore and combed her fingers through the dark strands shot through with gray.
She had smiled more then though she had never been one to laugh like Eloise did. Her years at Hogwarts had been wonderful though the memories had become painful to her, lost in the intervening years of sorrow and hurt. When she'd thought of them before, her mind would curl away from them but now she let herself remember running barefoot across the grounds at midnight, stolen kisses in the astronomy tower, fighting at Marelene's side.
Yes, she'd been in love once--deeply, intensely, and for many years she had felt as though all that was behind her, that she could never love again--that she would never feel again. She smiled now at the thought of Eloise, who thought she was handsome, too. A bare brief smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the young woman's bright eyes. She had never thought she could love again but she knew this feeling. It startled her, and she pressed her hands against her stomach.
Eloise was nearly half Irma's age but had none of the silliness of her contemporaries, who twittered about the castle like so many birds. Eloise was a good soul, steady and practical. She laughed freely, loved easily. It had been surprising when Irma had realized that she considered Eloise a friend, something she hadn't had for a long time, but she knew it was more than that. She couldn't imagine now being without Eloise at her side.
***
It was late August and the evenings had just begun to be cool as the sun set. Tomorrow, the students would arrive, many more than they had expected, but tonight there had been a party for all the volunteers who had helped to rebuild the castle. Irma had stayed behind, wanting to walk along the quiet stacks of the library one last time, but shooed Eloise along to enjoy herself.
Irma was pleased with their work, with the way the polished shelves gleamed in the lantern light, the books lined flush against the edges. In the fall, Irma would travel to London in an effort to replace what had been lost and planned to take Eloise with her as a treat for them both. She paused to straighten Xylographic Xylophagous, her fingers lingering on its spine, as she thought of how happy Eloise had been when Irma had told her, and wished she could be here now.
"Irma?"
Irma startled at the sound of Eloise' voice calling for her in the cavernous library, laughing quietly as she remembered once regretting that Eloise didn't respond to wishes. Perhaps she did. She hadn't expected her back so soon, and reached for her robe, still clutching the book as she hurried down the aisle.
"Eloise, I'm here," Irma called back, mostly just to taste the name on her tongue and to see Eloise smile back at her at the sound of it. She looked lovely in her light blue dress robes and a yellow silk ribbon in her hair, and Irma wondered at herself for ever thinking that Eloise was anything less than beautiful.
"I brought you back a slice of cake."
"Oh, thank you. Come share it with me. Our last meal in the library. Was the party nice?"
"It was loud, I guess, though dinner was good. I wish you had come, though," Eloise said as she swiped a finger through the icing. "The Great Hall looks wonderful. Professor McGonagall restored the charms to the ceiling and it was such a clear night. Won't you come down with me just to see that?"
"I'm already in my night clothes. I hadn't expected to be out but wanted to see the library once last time."
Eloise tilted her head back to look around her, laughing merrily. "Could you have imagined it would be like this?" She asked, and Irma shook her head, answering more than just that question. "There ought to be a plaque just here telling what happened, so that no one can ever forget."
"You know, and that's enough, Eloise, just as I know how hard you worked as well. I couldn't have done it without you," Irma said, both because it was the truth and because she wanted to see Eloise blush in her pleasure even as she brushed off the compliment. She wanted to say more but didn't know how to begin. Eloise seemed to see that and more, as she always seemed to do, and Irma was grateful for her presence.
"Still, you should come with me to see the Great Hall. I know a secret way. We could just look at the ceiling and come back. I'll make some tea after. C'mon."
Irma looked at Eloise' outstretched hand for a long moment before she reached out to her, sliding their fingers together. Eloise' smile grew larger and they left the library on cats' feet, making hardly a sound as they slipped down the hall. It was still warm, warmer still once they slipped into the passage that would lead them past the revelers and into the back of the Great Hall, hidden in the shadows. Above them, the night sky stretched out forever, the thick belt of stars that made up the Milky Way standing in sharp relief against the dark night. It was beautiful, and Irma wondered when the last time was since she enjoyed the sight of the sky--when she had last looked up and just breathed in. She did that now, pressing her shoulder against Eloise as Eloise stood quietly next to her. It was perfect and for a moment Irma felt as though she couldn't breath. She was glad to be home, and no longer alone.
Click here to leave a comment