Disclaimer: This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and no monetary gain is being made off it. Any violation of trademark and copyright infringement is unintentional. The rights belong to its respective member(s) and I seek nothing to be gained from this venture.
A/N: Thank you internet for the lovely cover. So this is going to be my first multi-chaptered novel/novella fic in the Harry Potter fandom. To be honest, I have only figure out the beginning and the end. The total number of chapters hasn't been decided upon yet, but I suppose that because this being my first lengthy fic I won't be able to pull off more than a 10-chapter feat. But then again, you never know.
I'm working on the first two chapters and will be updating them in the end of this month or in the first week of April, after that you can expect regular updates as my boards (exams) will be over! YAAY! Can't wait for that.
Alright you lovelies,
Enjoy!
Reflections in a Pensieve
Prologue
Malfoy Manor, 7th July, 2015.
Outside, the world looked drenched in every possible shade of gray, from the dull gray brought on by the menacing clouds that thickly blanketed the sky to the steel gray of the placid waters-now a turbulent white, of the large lake that the Malfoy Manor overlooked.
He paced quietly in his study, his steps measured. To the trained eye, however, the deep contemplativeness in his pacing would've been evident. The light filtering through the glass of the massive Victorian portrait window outlined his tall, svelte form in an otherwise dark room.
The heir to the Malfoy fortune stopped his pacing and stood in front of the window, so close so that his forehead touched and his breath misted the smooth panes of glass. His longish platinum blonde hair reached below his ears and fell over tired, stunning molten silver eyes, which had turned a dull gray shadowed with emotion, stared impassively at the turbulence the pellets of water from the clouds were causing.
The lake reflected his present state of mind perfectly.
Draco would've found the entire situation to be amusing for its 'melodramatic-aptness' if it hadn't been for him to be passing through what was rivaling the darkest period of his life- his reluctant allegiance to the fallen Dark Lord.
His gaze, of its own accord flittered to the ornate crystal cabinet that stood in quiet elegance in one corner of his study. Even from afar he could visualize all of its contents in order. The lower shelf held an antique silver pensieve-a family heirloom and the upper shelves held numerous vials of memories-evidence, she called them.
Draco felt his chest constrict at the line of his thoughts, it was like a physical blow to the gaping hollowness in him that was spreading, overwhelming his senses and turning him numb. Having been brought up between two people bound in a marriage of convenience, a deranged aunt and under the influence of a delusional wizard with no shred of sanity and his hoard of sycophantic followers who never knew better, had conditioned him to be reserved by nature and not harbour any sentiments that were characteristic of the Gryffindor folk, of her.
The two of them couldn't have been any more different. As contradicting as they came, they belonged to the extremes of the spectrum of society, brought up with polar opposite values and lifestyles, yet, they had unerringly been brought together in what could only be described as a cosmic conspiracy. Fate was amusing like that. Despite the obvious differences and vast psycho-social gap they had found and worked together to a common ground of affection and nurturing. They completed one another in every possible way - where she was incorruptible, he was devious, where she was forthcoming there he was a closed book and so on and so forth.
Perhaps, deep down they were made up of the same stuff, curious, affection-seeking and a little insecure only buried under differentiated layers of nurture's influence.
There had been this instant connection that was laced with an undercurrent of something that went much deep and what Draco deduced was of an intrinsic nature that made him take those final steps with her. Of course there was also the shallower aspect of attraction and it had most definitely helped that he was an attractive man and that she had an indefinable air of beauty about her that was charged with vitality and warmth. In many ways, she reminded him of a glorious summer after a dreary winter, or the first drop of rain on parched soil.
Sealing the open doors with a non-verbal wave of his wand, Draco made his way to the cabinet and touched his wand to the crystal knob to retrieve the pensieve. His long, pale fingers skimmed over the innumerable vials before he levitated the pensieve and the vials to the low coffee table by the fireplace.
Draco sat down on the high backed armchair opposite the table, crossed his legs and balanced the silver heirloom on his knee. Uncorking a vial he stared at its contents. Meticulously labelled ' D. Malfoy and H. Granger' the vial contained a volume of a bright thread-like substance, the substance gave off an eerie glow of ghost light that cast his uncommon eyes into a muted iridescence.
It wasn't as if he'd really need those to remember. Every moment spent with her was branded in his mind's eye with startling clarity. It was only on Hermione persisting on her quest to capture and 'document' all of their lives that he gave in,
"Do we really need to do this?" he had asked.
"Of course!" she had exclaimed, before adding in her know-it-all tone "We are human beings, and it's our compulsive need to document our lives"
(He really hadn't had a choice, she would've nagged his ear off otherwise), he recalled with a chuckle.
Then again age had a tendency to muddle one's perception however immaculate, which consequently led to a loss of objectivity in memories of the past. Draco found himself feeling glad that he had complied to her wishes once again (which was more often than not).
He found himself wrought with regret over everything that he should have done and said to her and did not.
"Regret," she used to say, "was only a step from remorse"
He had found himself listening to her then and now he agreed wholeheartedly.
Absently fingering the ornate serpents with emerald-studded eyes on the rim of the family Pensieve, Draco wondered if he should have made his feelings for her more clear, been more persuasive, perhaps then she still would have been with him, by him right now, running her small hands over face smothering him with kisses and gently coaxing him to calm down.
He missed her so much that the agony of it left him gasping for breath, desperate to cling on to any illusion of the warmth that she had taken away with her, leaving him in the cold. And today, this very treasure trove of memories was the only thing that was separating him from her.
Without a second consideration he poured all of its contents into the pensieve and watched how its surface broke into ripples and caught the dying light of the day in a reflection of hazy contours of colours and black and white merging at each other's seams.
Okay, so I would obviously be over the moon if you guys leave your lovely reviews as encouragement (bribe, actually) *wink wink*
Have a great day people!
Chapter 1 and 2 will be up soon.