One persons happiness is an others jealousy.- unknown

The clock

Josie G. Evans

'Ding, ding'

I used to hate that darn miniaturise grandfather clock. When my mother first got it, the whole family hated it, everyone complained for they wanted it to come down, everyone but her. She loved that thing, down to the last bolt and wheel. I'm guessing there was sentimental value behind it, perhaps hearing it's melodic song reminded her of when she was younger and lived in a little village, with a large clock tower, which she would sit in bed occupying herself, trying not to fall asleep, only to be able to hear it chime twelve times, signifying midnight; a new day. She would always say how simple and beautiful life was back then, barely any difficulties. Pure and simple. Those stories always sounded more like fiction or a fairy tale or maybe even the memory of a little girl, which grew fuzzy with time and intertwined with other stories, so blended you can't tell the truth from the stories of old. Fairy tales always sound magical and like a great place or time that would be fabulous to live in, with princes and balls, evil stepmothers and magical fairies and well tutti quanti; but really they were hard times with plagues and poverty...the list can go on forever.

We all lost precious sleep on the first few weeks, all unable to sleep due to it's loud methodical chorus. We would all whine of it's 'infernal racket', as my sister used to say.

Times were simpler then, it was before that faithful day, the day I found out why I was so different and of my 'abnormalities'.

I know I've said this many times already, but I hated even loathed that accursed clock. But those are the key words really, used to.

As life ticked on, life went by and I found myself adoring every splinter and fibre of it's being. Besides it's how I learned to count and tell time. My teacher had been so impressed, when in preschool, that I could tell time, will others still had difficulties going to the bathroom alone. I will admit, I've always been very smart for my age.

They say you never realise how much you miss something, till it's gone. I had never realised the meaning of those words until I left for Hogwarts. I had just turned eleven, and that day changed my life forevermore. I had received a letter, m y first letter, I was astatic. I know your thinking 'wow! A letter, big deal! How could a letter change your life?'. I used to ask myself those same questions, how could something as simple as a letter change my life? The fact is, that it wasn't an ordinary letter, it was actually a letter proclaiming, that I, Mary Lily Evelyn Evans, had been chosen to addend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How strange is that, I ask you. Magic? Is their such a thing? I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and it'll all have been a dream, but every time I woke up, I found that it wasn't so.

Being eleven and wanting to travel the world, I had been excited to travel to some unknown place to study magic, of all things. But as I arrived to this boarding school, I found myself lost, unorganized and miserable, without that retched clock. I had never realised before then, how much I liked it. I soon got used to it, but the fact of not hearing it's wonderful chirping as I woke up in the morning, announcing that it was eight, made me sad. I never believed that I could get attached to something material, like this, but I was. I loved how the clock would announce that half an hour had gone by. It was an old Victorian style clock; with gold trimming and it's colour a deep rosewood that had once reminded me of dried blood, it was lovely to be sure.

Years went by and I only heard it's delightful song during the summer holidays, when I would come home. It was almost an infatuation. When I thought of home, I would always think of that clock, which when around, seemed to stop time or at least slow it down. It was mesmerizing; you would find yourself sitting by it, waiting for the next time it would sing it's song. I often thought that it had once belonged to a wizard, for a spell seemed to have been placed upon it. Of course I was probably wrong, it was enchanting and mesmerising, only because I had let it become that way.

While in Hogwarts, I met a boy, his name was Remus Lupin, and I fell in love. We had been considered a couple, but in reality, we were so much more than that; sole mates, lovers, we were meant for each other, to be together for life. But it was wasn't to be so, for greed, corruption, and jealousy would get in the way and it also had a name, James Potter. Richest kid in school, he wasn't an evil boy, or spiteful, but he hated losing and always had to get what he wanted, no matter what the cost, spoiled is what he was. I wasn't to be bought and I loved Remus, who ironically enough had been best friends with James since the age of five.

They had once been inseparable, but then Remus feel in love with the only thing James couldn't

Later on, I grew to love James as a friend; as I had said, he was a pretty nice boy, considering he got his way in the end. We couldn't blame him, he was brought up that way, I must have pitied him in one way or an other.

In my last and seventh year at Hogwarts, Remus ended our love. He would not tell me why, but I always knew he hadn't fallen out of love with me, I could see it in his gorgeously blue eyes. After that, James asked me out, non stop. I finally agreed. I figured, what harm could come from one date? I was wrong, much harm and pain would come from it. It broke Remus's heart. James boast to him about how we were a couple, not that I had seemed to have a say in the matter.

My heart shattered into a million fragments of sharp glass when Remus showed no interest in even being friends with me. Time slithered by, ticking like my clock or grains of sand slipping through ones fingers. I began to see Remus secretly, neither being able to live without the other. I began to count the hours till I saw him again, like my mother staying up all night to hear the clock tower chime twelve. Our reunions, each more passionate then the last. It was our little secret, that of which James was never to know. Our love only grew stronger with the separation, it was forbidden love, and humans always want what they can't have, just like James, who was after all human.

Time once more slipped by, and to fast for my liking, until one day, our graduation day, came. Our last day in Hogwarts, the place with so many memories that only few of us were to see again. James proposed to me that day, in a way that stunned and bedazzled many. He had always been a showoff, but I had at least managed to deflate his ego, somewhat. That had been the biggest decision of my life. My love, my dearest, precious Remus. He'd been through so much in his short life, if I were to say yes, we would never be together and our little midnight rendez-vous would have to end. My love, the only person I have ever loved, more then every single grain of sand from the seven deserts combined. We would live a poor existence, shunned by all (courtesy of James), with nothing but our love. But love won't feed you when your insides are withering in hunger, or shelter you when you were cold or for a peaceful night of sleep, hidden from he cold. James would also be constantly trying to brake us up, no matter the cost. And so I agreed, choosing wealth over love.

As a weeding present, my dying mother gave us the clock, the only thing I loved more then life and Remus. I hung it proudly near our bedroom, so that I could hear it in the vast house. It's mechanical clicks and melodic sound as it would strike twelve, sounded the same as ever, reminding me each time of the story my mother had used to tell me. That of a little poor girl named Cinderelise. Had she married for wealth, just as I had? Our stories were alike. My beautiful Remus, would visit, and our passion at the sight of the other was strong and I was always afraid that James would feel it; as much as we wanted to loss ourselves in our kisses, we never breached it, to afraid to have James walk in and I was a married woman, it would have been a great sin to do so.

The clock sounds eleven times as I write this and my husband is calling me to come into bed with him; the same ritual, night after night. For this is the life I have chosen and thus the life I have to live.

As he slowly and passionately made love to me, the clock chimed twelve and my eyes blurred with unshed tears. As James, who had finished of me for the night, rolled onto his side and fell asleep, memories of old flashed before my eyes. I silently wept, careful not to wake him up, as I did every night after he had no use of me and he slept a peaceful undisturbed sleep. I, in return would fall into a restless , aggravated sleep, withering in a naked sweat, as I touched my stomach, now with baby, as cold hard, red eyes, without love and compassion, haunted my dreams. The eyes, I thought, belonging to James, who was slowly killing me, without him knowing.

Our love must not be a thing of words and fine talk. It must be a thing of action and sincerity. -I John 3:18

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all was either a liar or a damn fool. -Unknown

You can't buy love, but you can rent an awful lot of affection. -Alexander Cabot (taken from an Archie comic)

Love reckons hours for months and days for years, and every little absence is an age. -John Dryden

The right person would be flattered by a gift of shiny pieces of glass, painted blue, so long as it came from your heart. The wrong person would scoff at the moon. -Rob Fairchild

Another aspect of the pattern is that one falls in love not by design and conscious choice, but according to some accident of fate over which the victim has no control. -Sydney M. Greenfield

True Union, or love proper, exists only between living beings who are alike in power and thus in one another's eyes. -Georg Hegel

A/N: I couldn't help but add those quotes, which I found to go with the story. Well hope you all liked it. Aw! Forbidden love, the only kinda love , lol! Been a long time up and coming. It's been in my note pad forever. Constructive criticism is always welcome, flamers aren't and I don 't mind having a little ego boost now and then, it is close to Christmas after all! Hope you all enjoyed it, it's kinda sad though, aw well. This was written in the honour of my mothers clock which we all hated, come to think of it, I still do, and whom like the story, we lost a lot of sleep; I even threatened to burn it, but alas we've somewhat grown accustom to it, and my annoying behaviour makes up for it.

Merry Christmas! And to everyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas, have a happy Hanukkah, Kwanza, Solstice, or whatever other holiday you celebrate. And a happy new year!

Sleep tight,

Josie Evans

P.S: Tutti quanti, found at the beginning, means: etc.