A/N - Written for round seven of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, where I had to write about the Elixir of Life. I also used the optional prompts [Poem] 'Risk' by Anais Nin, [Word] Special, [Word] Permeate, [Word] Raindrops, [Closing Sentence] That was for certain.
I know literally nothing about any of the time periods that I'm writing about. If you spot any glaringly obvious mistakes, please let me know. And once again I decided it would be a brilliant idea to write at 3am.
Thankyou, firefly81, for the last minute beta'ing
And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom.
'Risk' by Anais Nin
She lifted her wrinkled hand, knuckles stiffened and swollen from old age, and slowly followed patterns left by the raindrops on the glass window. It was calming, the rain. It allowed her to think.
"What is this?"
"I've carried out experiments. Tested it for every possible use. This stone, it- I have created immortality! Think of all the knowledge we can gain! There's so much of the world we have yet to see! So much more than can be discovered in just one lifetime! And now we have the means to do so!"
"Is it safe?"
"Perfectly, my dear."
"Aren't we a bit old for immortality?"
"Ah, what you are thinking of is a state of prolonged youth. This potion – this elixir of life – it merely extends the lifespan. Continue to drink the potion and you will not die of natural causes. You will, however, still age. For you see, my dear, an extended youth will freeze you as you are for all eternity. But this! This will give you more time. This is true immortality, for a life without change would be dull indeed."
The rain pounded heavily on the roof, dulling the usual noises created by the old house. She'd found quite early on in her long life that noise helped her to focus her thoughts, possibly due to a childhood spent around many siblings and, later, rather rambunctious dorm mates. Though, she supposed, having spent a large part of the fifteenth century living in London, the noise becomes a source of comfort too. A constant in this ever changing world.
"It's not very clean, is it?"
"And Paris is, my dear?"
"We do not live in Paris."
"No. We live here. Right in the heart of London! Isn't it magnificent?"
"You know what I mean. Do not twist my words."
"Yes, yes, but look! Look around you, see the beauty of the world!"
"I see people who could do with a good bathing. And more effective sewers."
"No, no, you're looking at the wrong things. There is change here! Great things have happened here, and even greater things will come!"
"What makes London any better than Paris? It is not special."
"It is no better or worse than anywhere else. It is different. That is why we came here. Come, let us eat. You will feel better when you are no longer hungry. Less irritable, I dare say."
"Irritable?"
"Ah, what I mean to say is... less prone to finding fault.
London had been a lot more interesting than her first impressions had led her to believe. They'd returned once, a few centuries later. It was barely recognisable.
"Are you sure this is it?"
"Yes, of course! A portkey doesn't require directions, darling."
"It's as if it were a completely different place."
"It is, my dear. That's the beauty of change. Its speed alters. It's imperceptibly slow when you are in the midst of it, but should you allow it to take its course you wind up with something entirely new."
"Yes, and that's beautiful. But it never stops."
"Why on earth would you want it to?"
"I don't. Of course I don't. But- Perhaps we could stay in one place for a while; be a part of that change. I fear that the world is leaving us behind."
The fresh smell that rain always brought with it permeated the air. She looked over to where her husband lay in the bed by the window. His breathing was so shallow his chest was barely moving, his wrinkled skin almost translucent in colour.
"You are happy?"
"Of course! Why do you ask such a question?"
"Have you always been happy?"
"With you, yes."
"And we have lived well, have we not?"
"We have had more than our fair share of happiness. We have had several lifetimes full of it. If that is not living well, then I don't know what is."
"The stone... It is no longer in existence."
"... good."
"Good?"
"Yes. We have had more than most. I feel it is time for us to see what is to come next. Do you not agree?"
"Of course, my dear. I just had not realised you, too, entertained these thoughts."
"I do not wish to die."
"No. But we are ready to cross the veil; to see what the next life shall hold for us."
"And see it we shall. Together, Nicolas, my love."
It was nearly time.
She lay down beside her husband of over six hundred years and closed her eyes; the thin lids blocking out what little light was left in the room and listened to the sound of the rain as she let sleep overcome her.
She'd lived a good life – a happy life – with her husband, but now it was time to move on. That was for certain.