'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
CHAPTER 125; on which the heavenly spheres revolve
[ DECEMBER FOURTEENTH, 97' ]
No one in particular,
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'And, as geranium, pink, or rose Is thrice itself through power of art, So may my happy skill disclose New fairness even in her fair heart; Until that churl shall nowhere be
Our lifted lives at last shall touch That happy goal to which they move; Until we find, as darkness rolls Away, and evil mists dissolve, That nuptial contrasts are the poles On which the heavenly spheres revolve.'
CW: refers back to miscarriage in earlier chapters, allusions of substance abuse, and sexual content for majority of chapter.
Though the nights were a biting chill that left mulch on the grass outside their home and frost on the pavement towards it, it was much too warm for mid-December.
It wasn't a welcome warmth, either; it was the kind that ebbed and flowed as the winds did, too, evoking a sense of unease and contemplation on the fragility of nature's balance.
As the seasons so often did, this dissonance between comfort and disquiet carried through the home, affecting each individual living under that roof.
Hera would've liked to say the unusual temperature prompted some introspection on the interconnectedness of her existence with the natural world. But she couldn't say that; she couldn't even string together an intelligible thought about the change in environment or any such cause for this fifteen-degree burst of sunshine just over a week before Christmas.
What it did remind her, though, was that her brother and Hermione wouldn't entirely freeze to death through the night while camping. A slight relief was a relief at that.
The impermanence of all things became increasingly apparent as the days wore on; while they knew it was important to fight, no one yet had the resolve required to make a significant change.
Andromeda spoke less and less, her sharp wit and humour subsiding as joint pain overcame her — some days, she struggled to get out of bed, to begin with, and others, she'd sit before the television with her feet submerged in a twenty-litre plastic container filled with hot ginger and water. She also hadn't experienced a Christmas without her husband since their time at Hogwarts.
