Obviously everything is JK's etc. This is my first ever fanfiction, so sorry if it's bad/ too short! I'm planning on continuing it if anyone would be interested. Thanks for reading; constructive criticism would be very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy it!
Rose Weasley first discovered her mother's beaded bag when she was ten years old. Questing for some long since forgotten toy or book to distract herself from the indignant misery of James starting at Hogwarts without her, she rummaged around the musty hidden depths of an old closet brimming with junk. Later she would not be able to put her finger on exactly what drew her small hands to the bag; the vibrant shade of violet, the beads glimmering in the light of the fireplace behind her, the soft velveteen fabric caressing her hands; all of this and more, something extra, something that seemed to call to her very bones. Careful not to disturb the precariously balanced stacks of old books and assorted junk, she slowly traced the silver clasp with a gentle touch before lightly popping it open.
The young girl gazed into the chasm, and the darkness enveloped her. At first, all appeared to be black, but on closer inspection was actually varying shades of grey, shifting upon and around one another to create a seething mass of life. Spellbound, she stared for what felt like hours, her trance broken only when she heard footsteps echoing through the room. Anxious of being caught somewhere she shouldn't be, Rose swiftly snapped the bag closed, and darted up towards the door, only to find that the corridor was deserted. Reverie broken, she made to leave the room, only to stop at the door. Whispered voices, too faint to distinguish individual words, gently resonated around the unused bedroom, and once again Rose felt that undeniable pull towards the beaded bag, which now lay wide open on the floor.
One probing finger slowly entered the bag, and upon encountering a very noticeable lack of velvety material, was swiftly followed by a hand. The voices were silent. Perplexed by the sheer emptiness of the small bag, the child moved her face closer, peering through the darkness. This was Rose Weasley's first mistake. Losing her balance, she toppled headfirst through the opening, into the dark.
Surrounded by darkness with only the dim light from the entrance far above her head to guide her, Rose took a few tentative steps forward, nearly tripping over a small grey object. Heart racing, she picked it up, and saw a small glass bottle, half full of a clear green liquid, "Essence of Dittany" written on the side in a spiky script. Carefully setting it down, she walked on, her eyes beginning to adjust to the dim light, and more and more objects became visible; a messy pile of men's dress robes with a red dress thrown on top, stacks upon stacks of books, vials of a nastily bubbling potion and a long rusting sword studded with rubies were all inspected greedily by the inquisitive ten year old. A portrait of an old man dressed in green, seemingly hovering in mid-air, was avoided however; as soon as she drew close the man had begun to move and call for someone named Sirius.
As she walked further still, trees began to appear around her, the air grew colder and the light brighter, until eventually she arrived at the entrance to a small, yet fully pitched beige tent, situated next to a small pool. At the far edge of the pool Rose could see what appeared to be three men, and she began to call out to them; but at the slightest sound the figures turned to stare at her as one, enshrouded in grey mist and barely distinguishable as human. A sense of abject wrongness seized her, and her voice caught in her throat; desperate to get away she entered the tent instead.
As soon as she entered, a large ginger cat began to entwine himself around her short legs, before sauntering over to the fire blazing merrily in the hearth, watching her expectantly. A great weariness settled itself heavily on her bones, and craving comfort, she warily sat down on the worn, red sofa that stood in full view of the fireplace, and buried herself in the cat's thick orange fur. The deep throaty purr reverberated through her body, and she promptly went to sleep. She did not see the blond young man watching her, or feel him tuck her under a large patchwork quilt. She did not even awaken to his incredulous exclaim upon seeing her face.
"Granger?" Draco Malfoy whispered.