Chapter 13 We Find Shading Under The Same White Cloud (Conclusion)

Summary:Once in a while, if you get a chance, if you have the time, take a moment and look up into the skies. Find that white cloud, and you'll find me, because on the other side, I'll be looking at the same, thinking of you… thanking you… for the memories…

The parking lot of the Sand Beige art gallery was empty no more. The bottomless air lifted like a veil, and emerging behind it was a petite woman with a painting in her clutches, standing under the spotlight that was merely a combination of dimly lit street lamps. Each of her footsteps took their turns to fragment the reflections of the dimly lit street lamps on the ground. The tiny shallow ponds of light flickered in pain under the quiet mist, stabilized only by the scent of winds that trailed her path, the feathery sounds of which could not even mask the drum of her own monotone heart, counting slower and fainter into the night.

Prudence was not sure if it was coldness or pain she was feeling right now as a result of the jagged winds, but at least she was holding something in her arms, the painting, tightly and tenderly across her body. It had been a long time since she last held something, or someone, as meaningfully as this. She assumed she had forgotten how to, and she wondered if she was presently executing the act of embracing correctly.

The art competition held at Sand Beige had just concluded. As she had expected, she did not win with her submission. After all, how could an amateur painting like hers be considered first grade, especially after being subjected to frantic additions the night before the competition. The judges must have noticed her new paint strokes that did not dry in time, but she knew she had to make these changes. Adding the images of a man and a woman strolling side by side and disappearing away under the moon gate was important. Indeed, she was merely adding onto the portrait the truth of what she saw on that memorable night of thundersnow in that magical place called Hogwarts.

She insisted that losing the art competition was an outcome she would gladly accept, for she could now keep the portrait for herself, one that was accidentally inspired by a dream of a very special man. What she could not comprehend was why a writer from the Arts section of the Daily Quotidian approached her for a brief interview about her painting earlier this evening, when everyone else was gathered with the winners. In the interview, he accidentally led her to rehash the origins of her inspirations that resulted in the painting, and the presence of a man who belonged to a different world, and his words, that she was desperately trying to forget.

Speaking of the man from a different world, she hadn't visited his flat for the past couple of days. She had no reason to. After all, there was no longer any newspaper at his doorstep for her to deposit inside his flat. She could only ponder whether his subscription had finally expired and ended.

Sadly, some endings are more difficult to swallow than others, such as the one she had to witness the night of the thundersnow. After watching him vanish into the crack of lightning, her lips immediately began their overdrive mandate, inundating people around her with words of strength and logic, busily reassuring them that she had accepted his passing. It was logical. It was rational; the man she loved came from a different world. It was not meant to be. They were not meant to be.

These were exhausting words. Repeating them over and over again was punishing. Like the new paint strokes on her portrait, her lips had now gone dry.

The drive home was uneventful. Accompanying her in the passenger seat was none other than her painting inside a white protective cloth, nesting on two bills of twenty pounds her mother gave her earlier. The monetary gain was the result of a wager between mother and daughter, betting on a very important outcome that was revealed the night of the thundersnow. Despite her mother being a seasoned gambler, she would lose the bet.

For Prudence, it was evident her mother's downfall was because she was too idealistic and optimistic. After all, not all people get to be a part of happy endings. In reality, there are winners and there are losers.

"As least I won the wager…" Prudence shrugged as her foot pressed on the acceleration pedal. She had been to Sand Beige almost on a daily basis, so tonight she could shut her mind from mapping the roads, and most importantly, thinking.

Unsurprisingly, the same street lamps would pass her by like the many nights before, but tonight, they were zooming her by quicker than usual. It was probably because this was the first time she drove on this patch of road at such a late hour. She was the only car, and she was driving faster than usual. The streak of lights was mesmerizing, and the acceleration pedal was recklessly accommodating. She found her foot stepping dangerously into it, and the sound of the engine propelled to its extreme octaves, but her heartbeat continued to grind and stall, unresponsive to the fast paced demand of the surroundings. It was as if it could no longer remember how to race.

She never noticed the extent of her unlawful speed. She only felt like she was symbolically accelerating the speed of her lifespan, perhaps eagerly wanting to reach its end. At the climax, the lamps were like a blurry but beautiful shooting star, humming, gliding, and shrieking…

"SCREEEEEECH…"

Prudence stomped on her brakes and the car tumbled to a halt, inches away from a boldly lit red light. It took a minute before the rest of her body caught up with her because of the forward momentum, and her heartbeat sputtered to a halt in the end. The white cloth was tossed to the floor, along with the bills in the twisted fabric wreckage.

Inside the deep night, one street lamp managed to find her frozen body, unknowingly casting her unstable shadow onto the painting beside her. It also highlighted a fresh red gash on her forehead, but it was too cold for her to notice.

"Mum was wrong… I was right," she shivered with a broken voice to the painting that was starting to become blurry, her breath seemingly unaware of her wound. "Just like… the red light, someone has to stop, to make room… for someone else… to let another… to proceed...

"These are the rules… and I have to stop."

And she was, at the intersection, merging herself into the hospitable darkness, patiently waiting for a car to cross in front of her from the adjacent road, but the grey fabric remained still, except for a trail of crisscrossing leaves. There were no cars, and yet the light remained uselessly red.

As the last falling leaf made its way to the other side, the traffic light finally switched green, its opaque reflection bouncing off the glimmers in her ashen eyes. It was her turn now; she could proceed now, but her foot would not let her make that choice. It refused to remove itself from the brakes.

"At least I… won something," she tried to convince her heart to beat, but it was no use. It had stopped beating.

The blood on her forehead had since frozen after a series of reds and greens. With her foot still unable to remove itself from the brakes, crumbling onto the steering wheel was all she could accomplish. It was what she ought to do. It was time to rest. It was time to go.

"BBBEEEEEEPPP…………………………………….. BBBEEEEEEPPP……"

The street lamp gradually died, as if it was trying to not call attention to the car and the driver, and the uncontrollable horn that would cry into the night.

aaaaa

Daybreak was still asleep, and so was everything else. Once again, she was waiting for the rest of the world to wake up. She was too early. Being the first one to arrive before sunrise again, she would now have to open the metal gates of the grocery shop on her own, as well as drag the large stack of today's fresh newspapers inside.

"Why am I still carrying this thing around places?" Prudence struggled as she reached for her set of keys, only to find her hand colliding with the Amoré inside the pocket. Even though it was still dark, the casing of the locket still managed to plaster a piece of shine onto the face, and in slow motion, images from the night of the thundersnow would follow her mind in colour and animation, with the final image that was a needle swirling without direction.

It was the reason she hadn't opened it since her return from Hogwarts. But presently, she found her thumb toying with the cover that was the verge of reality.

"Oh, what the heck!" she whipped, opening it without hesitation, expecting to see the same spinning answer.

"……………...…………………………….Prudence…"

She could feel the warmth of light leave her cheeks as the locket flipped open, and to her shock, the needle was pointing solidly to her right. In a daze, she blinked again and again, but the result was the same.

"……………...…………………………….Prudence…"

Her right ear must be malfunctioning, like the Amoré right now, and her eyes as well, because from the windows of the shop, she could spot a tall reflection of a familiar man swimming beside her.

It couldn't be him. This must be someone else, possibly a burglar, or an intruder, wanting to rob the shop. The man she knew had already left her the night of the thundersnow. But how could this familiar voice be able to string her name?

"Pru…" the voice repeated. She couldn't deny it. No male voice other than his has ever addressed her like that. There was no mistake as her eyes followed his voice, and there he was, a dashingly handsome man, and she had to poke her head very high in order to survey the rest of his presence, because he was once again one foot taller than her.

"How… how… are you?" Oliver's jumpy voice trembled in a narrow range. As he stepped towards her, her skin tingled to the sensations of his body temperature, confirming to her he was indeed real, complete with all the burly arms and legs that were his usual accompaniments, albeit missing his earring. Unfortunately, his other accessories were a piece of luggage and the broomstick next to him.

How could he come back after what happened, she blasted to herself. What could she say? What else could she say? It was too early. But it was certainly not too early for her heart; for the first time in a long time, it was racing, actively waging war with her mind.

"Came to buy some groceries?" she garbled incoherently, trying to act nonchalant, too short-circuited to remember the open locket in her hand in full display for him, revealing the truth that resided in her heart.

"I… came… to tell you something," he bit his lip. It was an understatement, as too many words had already accumulated in the corners of his lips, fighting their way out. Many things need to be said, but his eyes were helplessly transfixed at the glow coming from her hand, to the answer that remained unchallenged.

"Teaching overseas again, Oliver? Which city this time?" she asked with surprising lightness. "Lisbon? Shanghai? Kiev--"

"Knock it off! You know I am no bloody teacher!" he chuckled, delighted by her temporary sense of humour, but discomfort quickly took over with his next passage. He could only try to hide it by scratching his head.

"I know… Dumbledore brought you to Hogwarts… to help me. He told you everything about me. You were there when I… you know… the night of the thundersnow. I know you were.

"It must be a bizarre experience for you," he inserted shyly. For a comparatively big man, he found himself too afraid to look directly at her. All he managed to accomplish were lightning glances.

"To have you hear these… strange stories, and meet odd people… like Dumbledore…"

She shook her head, her bangs brandishing to the rhythm of the winds, "They are not strange, Oliver… not at all."

"I… heard you that night, Prudence, your voice… calling for me…"

"It's because I was there, with Mum, and Zoe," she spoke with candour as she diverted the conversation. "Tell me what happened after you left. Feel free… to choose whichever beginning you want… anywhere you want…"

"I… I saw Yuriko that night. I got my wish, I guess. Seeing her was good. We… talked. Actually, she did most of the talking. I just kinda… fell asleep… in the train."

Prudence forced out a childlike smile. She hesitated in asking him to clarify, like what he meant by falling asleep in the train, not knowing whether she was prepared to receive the details of his encounter at this moment.

"Anyway, she told me what I needed to hear… you know… so I can get my sanity and reality back, and here I am now," he brushed his chest, as if he was sweeping dust off a very old statue.

"I think I'm a new person…"

He was right, Prudence thought with relief, examining his clean-shaven chin. He did reclaim his colour and energy to his mane.

"To tell you the truth, I think… my obsession, the entire time… my madness… I merely needed to know that she is doing fine, that she's safe… and happy… living up there," he gestured vaguely into the skies, "or wherever she is…"

He glimpsed at the locket in her hand furtively. It was unnecessary, for Prudence did not seem to mind, letting him see the truth.

"My crazy behaviour this past year… It sounds pathetic, and I can't believe I'm telling you this, but the fact is… I've always thought that… she was… she was all I have… until…

"Until…"

Prudence's heart skipped a beat, but she managed to interrupt him with a wan laugh, "I'm glad she's doing fine. It is a remarkable story, a fairy tale story, one that will live on forever."

Oliver did not look like he was listening. Instead, the vein on his temple could be seen popping.

"Prudence, your forehead…"

She brushed her hand against the small bandage, "It's nothing. A scratch. A small accident I had some nights ago…"

She diverted the conversation away from her again, "You said you have to tell me something."

"Yes, I came by… to ask you…" he cast his eyes at the locket.

"Oh," she automatically snapped it shut and placed it into his hand.

"No, this is not why I came."

"Er," she paused for a second, her mind spinning to find what she still had that was his.

"Right! Your keys!" she dragged her twisted key chain out of her pocket, but he shook his head.

"Pru, I came by… to tell you…" he approached delicately, his thumb rubbing the fine lines of the amulet. "I spoke… to my team…"

"Quidditch team…" she added smartly, her eyes anchored strongly in determined fashion.

Oliver smiled, impressed she had retained these details, "Yes, my team… they want to reinstate me back. They still want me to play for them."

"That's good news. You'll go back to doing what you love. I've heard Quidditch is your passion! So you're leaving now?" she rushed, wondering why she sounded more excited about this than he was.

"Actually, next season starts in mid-summer," he lamented with a submerged pitch. "It's late March now, so… I'm… I…"

His voice trailed to a boyish mumble, and the winds quiet down to adapt to his sudden loss in volume, "Dumbledore said… he would like me to… return to Hogwarts to help him train his students for the time being… So I'm heading there until the next Quidditch season starts. I'll… catch the next train, if I'm early, but…"

The pillars that anchored Prudence's eyes inadvertently collapsed. Bizarrely, she noticed Oliver's feet, as well as her own heels, were drilling into the pavement, as if they were planting them deeply into the cement.

"Prudence, I just want to know if… if…"

"……"

She couldn't respond, because she found herself short of breath, for a very large mass of oxygen had just vanished into Oliver's open mouth.

"I was thinking of… turning down Dumbledore's request," he could hear himself speak as daringly as he possibly could. As brash as he believed he was, the Amoré in his hand would greatly disagree, for it was gelled with the thickest sweat from his nervous cold palm.

"……"

"I can stay in London… if you… want me to," he quivered softly, his toes nibbling closer to her tiny frame, achieving a distance never accomplished before for them.

She dislodged her feet and moved back a step, pretending to not have heard him.

"Oliver… your earring?" she diverted the conversation for the third time.

"Yeah… I don't know what happened. It just vanished after I came back. I think… I'm gonna get it pierced again."

"No! Don't!" she shot at him like a teacher disciplining a student.

Whatever air that occupied the space between them stood still, anxiously watching for their next move with the rest of nature's elements. Thinking he was not clear enough, Oliver heated up his words decidedly further, "Is it no, you don't want me to get my ear pierced again? Or is it no, you… don't… want me to go?"

Perhaps this was a dream, a fantasy, she thought to herself. Maybe she was still in bed. This was too good to be true. Not only did he come back to her, he was also saying all the right things. She pinched her own hand, but nothing happened. It did not wake her up and transport her back to her bedroom. But of all people, it would be her who would truly understand that fantasies are not real, as much as she wanted it to be. After all, he was a man from a different world, and they have no future together. For the sake of its participants, she must terminate this fantasy.

"Oliver, I was… in Hogwarts castle the night of the thundersnow, with Headmaster Dumbledore and your friend, Ginny Weasley. I never imagined you're part of such a beautiful and enchanting place," she reminisced.

"I learned a lot… about your magical world that day."

She giggled ruefully, "It was my first time I rode on a magic broom. Ginny is very good. On our way to the mountain that night, she made sure… I hung on even though I was like an oversized bag of brittle disjointed sticks."

"Did you like it?" he zapped energetically. "I… can take you up for a ride now!"

"No, I don't want you to be late for the train to Hogwarts," she replied with whatever strength she had. Oliver's face immediately deflated, understanding her indirect but punctuating answer to his question.

"After… seeing you disappear into the stormy skies… your Headmaster asked us to stay for a few days. He showed me pictures of you. He told me all of your achievements, and Ginny… she was always around with us, and she would elaborate on why Quidditch is the best sport in the world, and how good and competitive you are."

She gazed at him proudly, "You did everything the right way your whole life. I could tell you were a popular pupil. You were captain when you were a student, and you won the House Cup in your final year of studies.

"And you would move on to play professionally after you graduate, in a sport that is very important in the wizardry world I understand. You are a true sports star…

"Even my mother is a fan of the sport, silly woman."

She looked away, "Here I was, so gullible… admiring from the bedroom window all this time, fantasizing about… a cute shy chap… believing he was teaching English overseas, assuming he was struggling to scrape for a living. And at night… painting my imagination of him as a regular boy... madly in love with..."

She interrupted her words with a low giggle, "The fool of me. It turned out I fell in love… with a boy that wasn't even real."

"I'm sorry I never told you the truth about me, but--"

Prudence pressed her hand to his lips, "I am… so impressed by you, Oliver Wood, all your accomplishments.

"You and I… we are so different. I studied in regular school, and I did everything wrong. The only achievement I was famous for was how I got myself in trouble, and before I knew it, I transformed into a teenage mum.

"All these years… to support myself and my daughter, I would work here, scraping for a living, and at night… foolishly dreaming I'll someday be an accomplished artist…

"Oliver, I know who I am, and I know who you are now. We are totally different people, just like Yuriko and you come from different worlds, you and I… in many ways… we too come from different worlds…

"My life is here. I have no choice, but you…

"A single guy like you… dashingly and devilishly handsome I might add… with absolute freedom… no attachments and so many possibilities," she cheered heavily, finally removing her hand from his lips, "you have so much going for you, places to go and visit.

"See the cloud up there?" it was her turn to point vaguely into the skies. "You can fly higher than the limits of the clouds up there.

"You don't owe me anything, Oliver," she stated affirmatively, hoping this would stop him from worrying and lingering about her. "My foolishnesses are my own, and I'll deal with it. You have no obligation with me or anyone."

There was no obstacle in front of Oliver's lips now, but he found himself unable to speak as Prudence continued, her words, as adamant as a stream of pebbles.

"I equate people to clouds. They come… arrive… as beautiful as they are, like the one above us now, but eventually… it will leave… to search for his destiny…

"It's like each one of us has our own unique path.

"Don't let the clouds in the skies to be the limit to your horizons, Oliver. Keep flying… higher and farther. Promise me. Don't let anyone hold you back. Your team expects greatness from you. Yuriko expects greatness from you. I expect greatness from you."

Every fibre in Oliver's body was motionless, except the one that controlled his finger, twitching to snap open the locket to reveal an answer he had once run away from.

"No, you'll just… complicate things," she closed her hand around his, sensing what he was about to do. "You know… I'm right about this."

"How… do you know?" he attempted to reach her hand with his other, but it was too late; she had slipped away.

"I just do," she smiled with peaceful satisfaction.

"Goodbye, Oliver Wood," she hugged him and nudged him along. "Hurry, please… before you miss the train."

"Can I… buy a paper before I go?" he delayed his steps unnaturally.

"It's on the house," she grinned and handed one to him, happy to know that thus far, the ending she was putting together was not as difficult as she originally had thought, but perhaps, she had formed her conclusion prematurely, for Oliver still had not left. Instead, he was as close to her as ever. The ending was far from over.

"Can I…" he slowly extended his arm towards her with a pain ridden face, his hand solemnly making its way to her injured forehead as the air granted him an unobstructed path.

"Does it… hurt?" he asked gently. Without her permission, he would initiate a sparkling touch that was seemingly timeless and privileged, separated by the thin layer that was a small bandage.

All of nature's eyes chose to look away, in order to give them some privacy, transporting them to a time frame inside unlimited borders that was all their own.

"Just a little," she replied with invisible tears as she closed her eyes. "Just… a little."

It was not known how long they stood like this, because nothing was available to witness their final intimate goodbye, but when she reopened her eyes, they would watch him calmly turn and slowly head away with his suitcase. She was convinced it was the right thing to do to send him away, but her eyes were not, for they were now mixed with both sadness and joy, the precursor for the redness that followed.

As she stood, she would not know how to tell her story and where to begin if anyone were to ask. All she could do was ponder why for a tall man, he was walking with such tiny little steps, when she specifically asked him to hurry up so he could catch the train.

Seconds became minutes before his image would succumb to the erosion of distance in her eyes. Knowing it would be too much to see him fully disappear, she chose to shield her eyes before the image of him would completely fizzle away. She couldn't comprehend, but the topic of Hogwarts weather would inexplicably invade her mind as she waited for the sunrise, its unpredictability, from thundersnow to dancing rain in the blink of an eye. Unconsciously, her protective instincts swept over her. It suddenly occurred to her that he was not adequately dressed, because there would be nothing but bitter snow to keep him company in his destination. And judging from her visit, the North Tower of Hogwarts castle was comparatively much colder than the apartment building the two of them lived in. How could he sleep comfortably in such a ghostly environment? And what about all the eerie squeaks and haunting echoes…

She could hear herself swallow a deep breath to halt her spinning and worrying mind. She shifted her eyes to the skies, knowing that all she could do now was hope the weather, and everything else, would simply be kind to Oliver. Curiously, the mellow white blanket was still there. Presently, not only was it hovering over her, it had now stretched itself to reach him as well, that the opposite end would reach Oliver, who had stopped his departing footsteps and was also gazing at it, intrigued by its slender shape as well. The two of them, standing underneath it, couldn't help but wonder if binding them together would forever be just a long mellow cloud.

"Prudence, once in a while, if you get a chance, if you have the time, take a moment and look up into the skies. Find that white cloud, and you'll find me… because…"

"… because… on the other side, I'll be looking at the same white cloud, thinking of you…thanking you… for the memories… Take care and goodbye, Oliver…"

Prudence's eyes must be malfunctioning again, teasing her with silly imaginations. Looking at the white mass, she thought she could see Oliver's reflection grinning at him. Examining it more closely however, Oliver's grin turned out to be the rim of the newborn sun. Daybreak had finally arrived.

"You came to me like a pure white cloud, like a beautiful art of creation on nature's canvas. But your future awaits you now, and just like this, you will have to drift away…"

Unbeknownst to her, the mischievous cloud was also misbehaving on Oliver's side, as a handful of raindrops began to shower on his temple, just enough for him to seek cover. As he rummaged through the newspaper in his grip to cover himself, a snapshot of a painting in the Arts section caught his attention, leading him to explore the caption and quotes underneath it:

"…Cream tomato soup skyline. The mountains can be interpreted to resemble dark chocolate pudding. The cotton clouds were inspired by simple potatoes, and the sun was like the egg in an everyday salad…"

He need not reread the unsophisticated quotes again as he raised one of his eyebrows in disbelief. How could he forget his very own silly words uttered by him one night at Prudence's dinner table? His stomach remembered them too, for it was growling, recalling the many meals he had with her. He now knew what to do. A broad smile appeared on his face as he snapped the Amoré open, and he was happy to know that Yuriko was right. A new life might have just started for him, and it appeared hopeful, judging by the brightness of the locket's shell.

Prudence pulled her eyes away from the illuminating sunrise as she was distracted by an even stronger glimmer sparkling ahead of her, only to find Oliver still within her visual range, although very small, standing directly at the opposite end of the cloud.

With the help of the newborn sun, peeking jubilantly behind the cotton cloud, the white starry sparkles continued to twinkle delightedly from Oliver's direction. No amount of distance and differences could interfere. Even though the shine was young and in its infancy, it was bursting with life despite the distance, and it was energetic enough to butter a glorious piece of morning spring sunlight on Prudence's glistening cheeks.

"People might drift away like the pure white cloud, but I realize now, a piece of you will always quiver inside me. Whenever you're ready, I will be back, no matter what happens. Take care and goodbye, Prudence…"

The End.