Hermione, Her Mind…

http://www.sarablackthorne.com/blog/

…it had been drizzling outside the cafe all day, and I really did not want to see their judging faces today. I had grown repulsed by the very cracks in the mossy arching walls of the lecture halls I shared with these lesser beings. School had become my prison, I had enjoyed the escapes of education all my life, yet for some reason college seem to have other ideas about learning. How were all these idiots admitted into this noble institution that promised me scholarly enrichment; I refused to even consider myself equal. Today had been so lovely already, I had no intention of ruining its splendor.

With these Velux roof windows, you can
always tell if it’s raining or not.
 A low grey moon had slid down to wake our still slumbering college town. I rose early as I usually do at 4 a.m. and wrestled around my dormitory with my aching limbs needing the time to readjust to movement. I hated sleeping anyway so I really didn’t mind. By 6 a.m. I drifted down to my favorite tea shop so I could jibber jabber with my candy crush, the hot beverage was good too. It was her spot first, a topic often used to break the ice as I was always nervous around her, and she ruled the cafe with winks and smiles. She literally could commit murder without speaking or moving from her chair.

The odd moon brought sweet company, as the morning dew only seem to sing louder by the hour. I was prepared for the sweater weather, and I was rewarded. She moved her chair from its glorious spot, to snuggle in my arms and chest. Her throne was enviably placed in the corner beneath the sunroof, and on a normal day the rays lit her aglow. Today, however, she found warmth in my being, against my fabric. I dreamed she even slipped her shivering hands beneath my shirt, to thaw upon my skin. I was delighted nonetheless for my fabric, as it captured her every essence. She would often flatter me, saying how well I smelt. Heaven knows I was caught up, but her being was divine to all my senses.

As we sipped tea from my window seat, we could see the unfortunate one stuck outside on their way to the penitentiary. I had brought my gear, and I snickered at them. One snicker rocked her, and I noticed she had fallen asleep under my free arm.


She snickered too, tuned by my heart’s rhythm, and smiled up at me. She was glorious. Her hair had been undo as she nestled into my woolen garments, and her locks dance across her face. The black long sleeved blouse hugged her closest at the bust and wrapped to meet the skin tight black jeans that too rested on black; her favorite black boots. Maybe she was snickering at the nincompoop who decided to ride his bike through the rain. Her smile quickly frowned, and she sighed, “Shit, I have a test today.” The cyclist must have been her classmate, or his drive resurrected the urgency of the day. 

She wiggled free of me, and smiled. Rose. Finger combed her silky black mane. Smiled again, and flashed her eyes to the counter and beamed, “I’ll be right back.” Even time stood still for her, there were no words, nothing else occurred as she slipped out the back. I realized I too had been smiling back at her in obedience. How could I ever leave college without her. 

The cafe was on the ground floor of a corporate building, and having been left alone with these thought I decided to pay the bill ride the glass elevator to the roof a couple times.


I had been recruited to play ‘ball for the college, and my grades afforded me the opportunity to use my scholarship to pursue engineering. I had been to this building in my freshman year, before her cafe was even built, and climbed scaffolding with the architectural and construction crew. The view wasn’t this good then, but it was relaxing the distraction of unnecessary limbering. Now, no matter how high up I went, my eyes kept searching the streets for her. And after five minutes I gave up and stopped on one of the floors. 

The floor housed a antiquities store, a store of stores. Each sector of the showroom displayed either a different theme, era, or culture. I slipped to a corner pocket, I think my being just had to look out the window to see if she was nearby. She was not and I knew it, but I truly could not stopped my self from peeking out every available window. A moth searching for his flame on a cool rainy day. I was just a floor above the cafe, and could feel my body gnawing away at my will to get back to the place where it served her well. 


This particular sector was dedicated to chandeliers and other lighting instruments, and I was drawn to a rather hideous looking hanging orb like bulb thingy. I guess I consented because I could peer outside for a quick survey of the streets for our dashing damsel.

Lightning cracked, I heard feminine screams. My will was broken. Was one of them hers? Did she return? Did someone tell her I’d gone idling upstairs? Was she waiting, alone? Was she scared?

I dashed downed the stairs.

Our table hadn’t even been cleared completed, and reset. The chair were as she had needed them, and I under hypnosis reacquainted myself with the position with which she left me. I checked my watch.

“You waited love, I thought you’d have gone ahead so you’d be customarily early for class,and I took forever to find my cloak.”

She had returned a quarter of an hour later with the silvery cloak folded carefully.
I was busy worrying that she had to scurry the wet roads I had forgotten that she lived in a connected building. The reason she’s certain she discovered the cafe first, for was at the opening having heard the commotion from her room. That thought was draped my the wretched sound of an old speeding locomotive, that of my own professor…

  

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