Dark Come Soon

Alexandra awoke to the sound of her father’s voice. He was singing an old folk song in Spanish. The song in question was familiar to her, it was Cielito Lindo, a song he’d sung to her throughout her entire life and as she lay there, listening to his voice. Everything was fine. But then it dawned on her that she was lying in a bed, that a thin blanket covered her body and that she had absolutely no memory of how she’d gotten there. Panic struck her. Her eyes snapped open and she peered up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where she was. She recognized the ceiling as that of the hospital wing. If she was in the hospital wing, something must have happened to her . . . she’d gotten injured.

The more she thought about it. The more probable it seemed. Alexandra must have been walking down the stairs when a vision struck her. The lack of consciousness must have led to her falling down all those flights. She groaned at the thought and as she groaned, a sharp pain seared through her sides. It felt as if someone had taken a baseball bat and repeatedly hit her. Her sides felt weak, liable to break. Tears stung at her eyes. Make it go away, she thought. Make the pain leave. She wanted to cry out for help, but all she could do was hiss in pain.

“Alexandra!” exclaimed Andrés. “Don’t do that! Don’t try to move, you have to lie down. Okay? Just lie down, please.” He appeared at her side, his face filled with worry. “How are you? Is the pain unbearable? Do you feel like you need something for it? I can run over to the cabinet and get you something if you –”

“Stop talking and get me something!” she cried, her eyes narrowed in contempt.

Andrés ran to the cabinets where the various potions and droughts were held. His eyes searched the shelves, looking for the strongest pain killer they had and when he found it, he snatched it with his right hand and bolted back to his daughter’s beside. A small measuring cup was procured and he filled it a quarter of the way. It was a bit more than the recommended serving, but he would rather have his daughter be a bit off than have her in pain. So he gave it to her, persuaded her to drink every last drop even though it tasted and smelt of rotten stew.

At first, Alexandra felt herself gag. The potions taste was so putrid that her body refused to let it in her stomach. So it lingered in her throat, torn between going back up and forcing its way into her stomach. Thankfully for her, she managed to force it in and immediately after, her body began to feel free. The pain that plagued her was a long forgotten memory. She laid there, her eyes half opened, looking as if she were falling asleep or stoned.

“How do you feel?” asked Andrés.

“Way better.” Alexandra replied honestly.

He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “That’s good.”

“Dad?” she called to him. “How’d I end up here? Did I have a – you know.”

“Professor Dumbledore brought you here. He found you when you were tumbling down the stairs and as for the,” he lowered his voice, “vision, you had one.”

“Did he tell you what it was about?”

Andrés shook his head. “Said he didn’t have a chance to hear it all, only heard something about not being in vain. But don’t worry about it. All that matters is that you’re awake and that you’ll be fine. But first, you have to drink this other potion.”

“Oh no.” she protested. “That other one nearly made me puke. I'm not drinking anymore.”

“You have to drink this one. It’s for your ribs, so they heal faster and it’ll help the swelling go down.”

“Not drinking it.”

“Alexandra,” he sighed. “It doesn’t taste as bad as the last one, promise. If you drink it, I’ll . . . well; I’ll go home to pick up some Mexican coca colas and sweet bread from that bakery you love so much.”

Bribing was a tactic he’d always used to make her take potions and draughts. Some parents frowned on him for doing so. They said it made it so Alexandra would think she’d always get her way. Andrés didn’t care though. He only had one child and the odds were that he’d only ever have one, so he’d dote on her, he’d spoil her for as long as he could.

“Okay then.” Alexandra grumbled.

He didn’t lie about the potion. It did taste the better than the previous one. There was a hint of mint to it. It was refreshing, crisp even, but its refreshment was short lived for she could feel her ribs begin the process of fixing themselves and although she’d taken a painkiller. The discomfort was still there. It wasn’t an intense ache, it was dull. Not really painful, but just . . . annoying.

“I have to take anything else?” she asked.

“That’s it. For now, at least,” he replied. “In eight hours, you’ll have to take a little more of the same potion but that’ll be it.”

Alexandra nestled into her pillow. “Is mom around?”

“Right here, Alex.” Sybill left her seat and walked towards her bedside. “Gave us quite the scare, you did. But you’re going to be alright. We’re going to figure out how to stop this from ever happening again. Perhaps we’ll have Professor Dumbledore help us with a charm so when these visions strike you, some sort of protection will be enacted . . . not quite sure as to how it will work, but I have faith that arrangements shall be made.”

“Hopefully something will get worked out.” Alexandra smiled softly. “So how long was I out for?”

“About six hours.” Sybill responded.

“I missed dinner. Oh man. And I heard they were making that fruit tart thing that I really liked.”

“You nearly died and you’re worried about having missed dinner?” Sybill shot her an incredulous look. “Are you mad?”

“Hungry and tired, but not mad,” Alexandra draped her right arm across her eyes.

Sybill chuckled lightly. “If you want, I can run down to the kitchens to fetch some of those tarts for you. I'm sure the house elves won’t mind giving me some.”

“You sure?” asked Alexandra.

“Of course,” Sybill smiled brightly. “Be back in a few.”

Sybill left the hospital wing and Andrés and Alexandra were left alone.

“Ramona came by to see you earlier. Brought along a few others that were worried,” he sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “I promised I’d go find her when you woke up, but I’ll wait until your mom comes back, can’t leave you alone.”

“Dad, you can go, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I just –”

“I’ll be fine. If I need anything, Madam Pomfrey can help me out.”

“Oh alright then,” Andrés began to stand up, but then a shout echoed throughout the hospital wing.

“ALEX!” Ramona bellowed.

The longhaired brunette ran towards the hospital bed, grinning from ear to ear as she tightly hugged her friend. The intensity with which Ramona hugged Alexandra caused the latter’s discomfort to increase. Her ribs, which had previously only annoyed her, began to pain her and she ended up finding herself forced to let out a groan.

“Oops, I forget you’re hurt.” Ramona laughed.

“I was just about to get you,” Andrés smiled. “She just woke up ten minutes ago. She drank the potion.”

“Then in no time you’ll be up and running,” Ramona grinned. “Ron here wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Alexandra winced a bit. “Sorry I missed the practice.”

“It’s all right. Next time,” he blushed.

Alexandra offered him a friendly smile. It wasn’t much to look at since her face was bruised and her head was bandaged up pretty tightly, but the smile was enough to make his face light up. He looked so genuinely happy that for a moment, Ramona thought he would faint.

“Sorry guys, I’ve got to run,” Ramona excused herself.

Ron awkwardly stood there. “Think I should get going.”

“So soon?” she asked, surprising herself by her words.

“Thought that since Mona left, you might want me gone,” he mumbled.

“You can stay if you want. I was gonna have some sweets right now. Want some?”

“Yeah, love sweets.”

Alexandra looked to her father. “Dad, can we have some of the sweets we brought? The chewy ones, I mean.”

Andrés nodded. “I’ll bring some of the other ones as well. Don’t think Ron’s used to spicy sweets.”

“Spicy sweets?” asked Ron. “What are those like?”

“They’re really delicious but they’ve got some chile to them. I think it’s because Mexicans need chile in everything so they even put it in the candy.”

“Thought you were American,” he said.

“I am, but no one’s just American. Everyone has roots somewhere else. Like my dad, he was born in Mexico, was taken to American when he was three and grew up there.” Alexandra explained. “You know you can have a seat, right.”

Ron took a seat on the chair beside her bed. “So you were born in America then?”

“Was born in England, but I moved to America when I was a few months old. And since my dad became a citizen, he got me American citizenship. It’s confusing, a little, but yeah. What about you?”

“Born and raised in England.” Ron sat on the edge of his seat. “Same goes for my mum and dad.”

They sat in an awkward silence, unsure of how to continue the conversation. This was the first time that they’d ever been alone together. The circumstances might not have been the most intimate, but Ron couldn’t help but be thankful he was there at all. He was never really near her. Whenever he saw her, it was during class or with Ramona around. So to be this close to her was a treat, even if she was injured.

From her place on the bed, she discreetly stared at Ron’s profile. He had a very nice face, the sort that would go well in a sculpture or a sketch. It wasn’t harsh or commanding. The opposite was what rang true for it. His features were friendly. The kind a benevolent leader might hold and the more she stared, the more she wanted to sketch him. She was quite talented at portraits but the only models she’d ever worked with were her father and grandparents. Not much variety there. But sketching Ron would be a nice difference and the potion coursing through her veins, caused her to ask something she would have otherwise never asked.

“Mind if I sketch you?” she blurted out.

“What?”

Alexandra smile. “Would it be alright if I sketched you? I know it sounds weird.”

“Like a portrait?” Ron was at a loss as to why she would want to sketch him.

“Yes, exactly like a portrait, but in miniature.”

“You sure?” he asked. “I mean, no ones ever sketched me before and I reckon I might not be fit for it.”

“Think you are.”

Ron’s ears turned red at the compliment. “Well, if you think so, then alright. When do you reckon you want to do it?”

“Don’t know. Tomorrow work for you? Or is it too soon?”

Ron pretended to think about whether he had plans for tomorrow. “Guess tomorrow works. What time?”

“Maybe before lunch,” she proposed.

“We could go to lunch after. I mean, if you want, because I know I’ll be hungry and if you eat then you might be hungry; yeah.”

Alexandra suppressed an urge to laugh. “Um, well, yeah that sounds good.”

And so it was decided that on the following day, Ron would go to the hospital wing at ten in the morning. He wasn’t very keen on having his portrait done. He didn’t think himself exceptional looking enough for someone to want to do that, but if having his portrait done meant that he would spend a few hours with her; he’d do it. He’d be able to get to know her a bit better and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to be more himself around her. He wanted to make her laugh with his humor.

When Andrés arrived with the sweets, the teenagers began to devour them. Alexandra eagerly ate them, she hadn’t had any in two days, which for her was a record and Ron, well, although Ron initially felt discomfort by the spiciness, the taste grew on him and he was soon eating them with the same eagerness that Alexandra was. Andrés kept a watchful eye over the teenagers. As a father, he was very protective. As a man, he could tell that the young wizard was fond of his daughter. The way his face lit up gave him away and Andrés resolved on keeping a closer eye on him.

At a quarter to eight, Ron excused himself from the hospital wing and began his journey back to Gryffindor tower. He was supposed to patrol the corridors for a few hours that night, but before he did that, he had to tell Harry what happened. Harry had been pestering him to do something and now that he’d taken that first step, Ron knew Harry would be proud.

“Oi Harry!” Ron exclaimed when he walked into their dormitory.

Harry craned his neck to better look at Ron. “What’s got you grinning like that?”

“Alex.” Ron flung himself on Harry’s bed.

“That where you were all this time?” Harry set down his book.

Ron nodded.

“Bloody hell Ron!” he was astonished. “You must have been there more than an hour.”

“A lot more than an hour,” Ron added.

“Well, how’d it go? Come on mate. Got to tell how it went.”

“It was . . . it was just . . . brilliant. Honestly, brilliant. She’s so nice. You know? Was smiling even after all she went through and she gave me sweets.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“Not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Sorry, sorry. So she gave you like regular sweets.”

“Not regular ones, they were Mexican sweets. A bit spicy burned my mouth a bit but they were really good. Didn’t think I’d fancy them as much as I did, but those are top notch.” Ron propped himself up on his elbows. “And guess what happened.”

“Come off it Ron. No guessing games just spill it.”

“Wants to sketch me, she does. Asked if I’d swing by tomorrow before lunch, so I said yes and after she’s done, we’re gonna grab lunch together.”

“Very nice,” Harry complimented.

Ron smiled brightly. “Should be fun,” he said. “Think I’ll try to make some jokes tomorrow. You know, to get a laugh from her. Think she’d like that? To laugh, I mean.”

“Don’t see why not. She’s quite but she seems keen on smiling and all that. And I think it’d make you look good. Girls seem to like laughing.”

The boys kept talking until Ron had to leave to patrol the corridors. Usually, time passed slowly for Ron as he walked the corridors, but on that night, it flew by. And before he knew it, it was ten in the morning and he was standing right outside the hospital wing. He’d made sure to scrub his face well and had even attempted to style his hair, though he ultimately washed the goo that Seamus let him borrow and let his hair do what it always does. After that, he feasted in the kitchens so he wouldn’t get grumpy during the sketching. The last thing he needed was to act like an insufferable prat because he was hungry.

Inside the hospital wing, sat Alexandra whom was having second thoughts about sketching Ron. The potion had worn off and she was mortified by how friendly she’d been. She’d acted like Ron was some old acquaintance. When in reality he was a fairly recent one that she didn’t know much about. She seriously thought about pretending to be too ill to take any visitors but her father told her that she couldn’t be rude to the young man who’d gone out of his way to check up on her. As such, she was going to sketch him and she would be nice or else Andrés wouldn’t go back to Los Angeles to pick up the dinner that his mother had promised to make.

“Morning Ron.” She greeted him.

“Morning Alex, how you feeling?” he walked over to her.

“A lot better, thanks for asking and uh . . . thanks for coming yesterday.” She nervously fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “How are you?

“Doing alright,” he answered. “Bit nervous, never been someone’s model before.”

“It’ll be easy.” Alexandra reassured. “All you have to do is sit.”

“Alright, where at?” he inquired.

“Was thinking the windowsill,” she walked towards it. “It has great light and it’s perfect for you to just sit. I put a pillow there so you’re not uncomfortable.”

And so Ron took a seat on the windowsill, feeling incredibly self conscious but ready to spend his morning with her.