Disclamer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. © JKR.
A/N: Just a tiny oneshot of a lonely Hermione Granger and the shattered peace of a family tradition. A little angsty…a little sad. Perhaps I'll Update Race…sometime.
Sunset
She had always loved the dusk sky.
Tawny eyes were riveted upon the panoramic kaleidoscope of colours swirling and bleeding into one another, the warmth of the dying sunlight caught the sparkle of teardrops on the apple of her cheek. She sighed, a near silent exhalation of pent up emotion, wishing she could share this view with her mother and father.
It had been a Granger family tradition, to sit on the second story balcony of their quaint London home, wrapped in the gentle lullaby of city sounds as the hot summer days had wound themselves out, and retired, giving rise to velvet darkness. Her mother and father would converse quietly about their day, as their daughter sat staring at the view of sunset.
It had become her most cherished memory, and as far back as she could remember, she had always loved the dusk sky.
Each one had been unique, never quite blending in the same fashion. Violets would blend to reds, or to darker blues, pinks and pale yellows would subtly intertwine, but never exactly as the night before. It was like greeting an old, yet new friend, each night. And as the sun slipped its border, a part of her would cry in anguish, but she always knew there would be another one to follow. As long as the world turned, she would have her dusks.
The rich vastness of time and space had always condensed to the moments that a day's light was extinguished. Even as a student, she had found the time to lean against her dormitory window, knowing that at home, her parents would be watching that day's unwinding, and it helped ease the ache of loneliness inside her.
She wondered, her eyes still drinking in the sight of the setting sun, if her parents remembered at all their love of dusk. At this moment, would they be sitting in their quaint little house in Sydney, staring at the dying embers and wonder why they felt this strange sort of kinship with the day's end? Perhaps, though the modification to their memories might not let them remember, would they in their minds' eye see a slip of a girl with a tawny gaze and masses of bushy brown hair, curled up and watching the sunset with them?
The aching loneliness twisted in her again, but she did nothing to stem the new track of tears. Though they might blur her vision of dusk, something about the misty quality seemed right to her.
The velvet glove of night stole over her last few minutes of peace, wrapping her securely in a blanket of darkness. She shuddered, once…twice…and wiped her face clear of tear tracks with her hands. There would be no more security in watching a sunset, no sense of peace to settle upon her. She pasted a bright smile and turned to head into the shabby House. Without a backward glance, she strode in, research for the final Horcruxes on her mind.
But she would always love the dusk sky.