The Queen of Vipers || Fred Weasley

ii.

Electra dreamed of the countryside.

She was far from the house, in the long stretch of grass between it and the orchard, legs splayed out in the tall, soft grass, feeling the breeze on her skin. Or so Electra assumed it was a house. Though there was no possible way it was standing as each floor was stacked on top of one another like a Jenga tower just barely staying up. A gust of wind should have knocked it down, but there it stood.

There were pigs in a pen in the front of the house, a blue car parked in the grass, and a huge orchard just beyond the house where Electra sat. Behind the house was an organized mess of a garden with unknown flowers Electra must have made up in her mind, vines twisting up the stone walls of the boxed-in garden, and old rainboots discarded by a door leading into the home. A small pond laid in the corner of the garden, full of frogs and a few orange fish swimming around. In the middle of the garden was a large wooden table with benches on each side and mismatched chairs at the heads that seemed so charming to Electra. She imagined a large family gathered for meals in the garden and wished with all her heart for it to be true.

She looked around her.

There had been a campfire that night, but even with the hearth cold now, the lingering smell of embers burning hung around mixed with the smell of summer air, filled with the sweet scent of the fruit growing in the orchid and freshly cut grass. Surrounding the fire was a circle of tents and sleeping bags, empty, but perhaps waiting for their owners' return.

It was a tranquil scene, watching the sun hang over the trees in the distance, turning the sky a light golden, as birds flew across the horizon.

Her heart hurt for a moment. This was all she ever wanted, but it was so far out of reach. It wasn't real.

The tape of Electra's cassette reached the end and the clicking sound woke her from her dream. She shifted uncomfortably under the trunk of an elm tree as she blinked the tiredness from her eyes as she scanned the grove. Plenty more people were taking a stroll around the park in the afternoon sun, walking their dogs or taking their children to the zoo.

The shade of her tree had shifted without her noticing during her catnap and the sun warmed her face and reflected reds and purples off her hair. It was the end of August and the sun blazed above and the heat was stifling as it usually was this time of the year in the city. It tanned her skin a nice pale golden and brought out freckles along her nose and cheeks as well as her shoulders and arms. She may tan in the summer, but that doesn't mean she didn't still burn. She turned her face to shield it and dug into her backpack. She fished her watch out of the bottom and read the time. 11:28.

Electra sighed. She had hardly made a dent in The Voyage of the "Dawn Treader". Not like it was her first time reading the Chronicles of Narnia series, but it was one of her favorite worlds far far away from her's, and she was craving a familiar escape.

Strangely enough Sister Wilhelmina was to blame for her fascination with myths, legends and fairytales.

The old nun got into these moods, like she forgets she is a woman of the cloth and told Electra tales the other nuns wouldn't dream of, for mention of magic or witchcraft was blasphemy of course. Though she was lucid enough to warn Electra to not repeat anything said during these storytellings, especially around the nuns and other girls, or she'd surely get the paddle.

On a few occasions, when the two were alone —usually when Electra was under house arrest after one of her many 'incidents'— Sister Wilhelmina would tell her tales of magic. Electra secretly loved when the old Sister would tell her the tales she'd been told from her childhood. Her eyes always looked younger and more alive when she spoke of magic. As if it were real, and very beautiful.