.loss
Once upon a time, there were three young girls who would grow up to become beautiful women. Each of them was lucky enough to fall in love in her youth, just as each of them was cursed to have that love snatched away before its time.
The oldest of the three girls had silky black hair, and she fell in love with a brown-haired boy that she barely even knew. Every minute they spent together revealed something new, and their passion was insatiable. Their romance, however, was like a match that shone brightly for a few seconds before disappearing forever. Death stole him away unexpectedly, the first casualty in a long-expected war, and the girl he left behind did everything she could to put him out of her memory. Pain needed fuel, and she thought forgetting would kill the already dying embers completely. Relationships were her escape from the past, and over the next few years she welcomed countless men and women with open arms.
The middle girl, who had plain brown hair, fell head-over-heels for a red-haired boy she had called a friend for years. Everyone who knew them said that the relationship had been inevitable, yet neither of them had seen its potential until close to the end. Times were dangerous, and they knew from the start that war might rip apart their new-found love. They hoped against hope that fate would spare them, so it came as a shock when death finally came to call. As punishment for daring to stand by a friend, he was taken from her. The books she had loved as a child became her escape from the pain, and she slowly withdrew from the world as the war finally came to an end.
The youngest of the three had fiery red hair, and she fell in love with her childhood hero. Although she always believed that her crush on the dark-haired boy would never amount to anything, she refused to give up hope. She was rewarded he day he kissed her for the first time, and it was at that moment she realized she was in love. The world was at war, though, with people dying all around them. They knew from the beginning that the boy most likely would not survive to see the world at peace again, and they lived every second of their short time together to the fullest. The day she stood over his coffin, the red-haired girl shed only a single tear. She whispered "goodbye," kissed his cold lips, and went on with her life.
Three girls. Three lives. Three loves. One story.
This is where their childhood ended.
.life
The three girls slowly grew into women, but the scars of their pasts remained. The actions they took to keep themselves from being reminded of what they had lost shaped their adult lives and thus prepared them for what was to come. None of them had any idea what that was, though. All each of them knew was the path that her own life had decided to take.
The oldest woman's name was Cho, and she quickly learned that the only way to keep herself from feeling completely alone was to surround herself with people. She thrived in crowds, and she invited both men and women back to her flat almost every night of the week. It wasn't about love, or even sex. All she wanted was, for just a little while, not to be alone.
When she was a child, Cho had often dreamed about what she would do with her life once she reached adulthood. She had wanted to be a world-famous Quidditch player. She had wanted to be an Auror. She had wanted to be a curse-breaker, or a dragon trainer, or any number of other occupations that lost their appeal the older she got. Not once, however, had her childhood self ever imagined that she would become a healer. She had never imagined that the entire Wizarding world would once again be at war, nor had she thought that a desperate urge to do something with her life would lead her to healing others.
It never occurred to her to try healing herself.
Hermione was the name of the middle woman, and her inclination to hide herself from the world only increased as she grew older. People reminded her of everything, and everyone, she had lost, so she kept to herself as much as humanly possible. When she had been younger, the world had seemed large and full of possibilities. She'd promised two friends that she would become an Auror with them, and they had been young and foolish enough to believe that they might have a future.
Now she worked for the Ministry, reading reports and writing letters in a dark corner room that other people rarely entered. She did her work quietly yet diligently, and in return she was left alone. Hermione knew that people whispered about how she was wasting her mind on trivial tasks, and sometimes she even heard the voices of her friends telling her that she was betraying their memory. She knew better than to listen to those who were long dead, though, no matter how much she wanted to hear them.
The voices in the text were much safer.
The youngest of the three was named Ginny, and she did not let the past rule her life. It shaped what she became, but it did not control it. The one thing she learned in her youth was that life was short, and she realized early on that was a message that needed to be passed on. Teaching others came naturally for her, and she applied for a teaching position at several magical schools. In the end, though, it was Hogwarts that accepted her.
Just a few years before, it would have been impossible for her to find a position at a school such as Hogwarts: Ginny knew that much. The war had changed all that, though, when it took the lives of many of the Wizarding world's most talented. Most of those who had been considered experts in their fields were either dead or broken, their hearts and minds shattered by the cruel truths of war. The second-best, and Ginny was well-aware that she was lucky to even fit under that description, became the new generation of experts . . . and they would have to suffice.
She was broken herself, but all she wanted was the chance to fix others.
One day, by chance, these three women happened to meet in a place Diagon Alley. These three had known each other when they were girls, but their lives had taken different paths, diverging even more as they grew older. It was as though they were strangers, even though they had known each other for years. A hesitant suggestion was made that they eat dinner together, though none of them can now remember whose idea it was. All they remember is that they all agreed to the plan, albeit reluctantly.
Three women. Three lives. One story.
This is where everything changed.
.luck
They ate dinner once, and then they parted ways. Not one of the women planned on meeting the others again. Yet, the following week, all three found themselves loitering outside the restaurant where they had eaten the week before just on the off chance that the others would show up. The same thing happened the week after that. And again the next. And the next.
After a few months, it had become a weekly ritual. Then, when once there was an event which changed the date, it changed, until soon they were meeting twice-weekly. And then thrice. It wasn't very many months more until it had become a daily occurrence for the three of them to eat together, sopping up their sauce with bread and talking about anything they could come up with.
None of them quite understood why they kept meeting. When they had been younger, there had been little that they'd had in common outside of the random personal connection each held to the same boy. If they were honest with themselves, that had not changed. Cho healed, Hermione wrote reports, and Ginny marked lessons and lectured. They had almost nothing in common, yet each found she didn't want to stop meeting with the others. And it was changing them, even if, for a long time, none of them wanted to see the difference.
Cho found herself not needing the constant company that she once had, and it was soon rare, instead of common, for her to invite anyone to her flat for more than a chat or a cup of tea. Hermione slowly began emerging from the shell she had been hiding in, occasionally explaining a chunk of theory or sending off an owl without external pressure to do so; her coworkers and former friends welcomed her back to the their lives. As for Ginny, life went on as it always had . . . just without the slight loneliness that she hadn't even realized was there until it was gone.
And then, nearly six months after their first chance encounter, a sudden rainstorm caught them by surprise. They found refuge in the small cottage that Hermione called home, shaking off dripping water and cursing, laughing, at the sliding drops down their back. Clothes were removed and hung by the fire to dry, brandy was poured to warm the three soaked women, conversation started up among them . . . and, unexpectedly, two pairs of lips met.
Ginny smiled innocently as Cho and Hermione guiltily sprung apart, blinking in surprise as they turned to stare at her across the small table. Her hands lay in front of her, as if they hadn't just reached out and pushed the faces of the other two women together. The only hint that anything had just happened was the focused look on her face as she waited to see their reaction.
A few seconds later, a warm pair of lips pressed against hers. As soon as they pulled away, another took their place. Hands were intertwined.
This is where they stepped on the path that would lead to the future.
.love
From that day on, Cho didn't need to be lost in a crowd of strangers in order to not be alone, and in fact, when she looked around and noticed, she realized that it was in that crowd that she was truly the most isolated. All she needed was two particular other women.
The following week Hermione quit her job with the Ministry and set forth on a mission, calling in every favor she had in order to be placed in the Auror program. For the first time in her adult life, she didn't feel as if she needed to hide from the world.
As for Ginny, she had everything she needed to live her life to the fullest.
Some people would say that these three women lived happily ever after, but those three words really only exist in fairy tales. Did it last forever? Perhaps it did. Or perhaps it didn't. That really is not what's important. All that matters is that they lived, and—at least for a time—they were happy.