Silently fell the snow, swirling and spiralling, floating effortlessly on the wind. A thick, white blanket enveloped the bare arms of the trees, coating the canvas of the woodland. Glaring in the luminescence of the moon stood the towering figures of the forest, frost biting at their arms, pendulating in the midnight breeze; tasting the approaching storm. Fog hung densely in the fields surrounding the thicket, like a lusterless haze outlining the boundary of the match.
A crack of sound burst into the air, the ground squeaked under the impact of muffled footsteps as she apparated, hair flowing out behind her like a gilded ship on the rough seas. She paced forward. Increasing distance as she waited. Champagne satin torn up to her hip, clinging to her petite frame. A small round object clasped under the white knuckles of her left hand – daring her to let go.
A bright noise billowed from behind her. Deatheaters. She smirked. Twigs snapping as she tore forward, amber eyes bursting to life beneath long eyelashes as she heard them advance, leading the chase. Adrenaline pounding heavily in her chest. Thunder clapped through the night as a barrage of spells shot like lightning through the sky.
Focused.
The closer they came, the faster she ran. Black smoke and laughter lapping at her heels. Manic chants pounding through her vision. The cold encompassing her heart. A black hole of emptiness. Flashes of green and red hurling past her peripheral, Shouts of anguish as they missed their target. Bark exploding in the air, raining like shards of glass.
Predictable.
Tripping on the hidden vegetation, she winced as a bolt of blue clipped her arm. Her step slowed, decreasing her advantage. She turned to face them. A gleeful cheer; retaliation; a surprised expression; silence. One down, six to go. They advanced, a new anger fuelling their chase, an additional onslaught of unforgivables on her tail. Emerald shining through the woodland. Aim to kill.
Reckless.
She led to a stop in a moonlit clearing. A single stone marking the apparition point, unbeknownst to the others. Hearing the pounding in their chests, she paused. Dark fog of the night impairing their vision. Dodging the onslaught of magic that continued toward her. They were angry, impatient, brash. Surrounding her. Hunger dancing in their eyes as the area cleared. The caught sight of her – the snitch. Everything became still. Waiting for her to make the next move.
Foolish.
The rhythmic beating of wings; the little flock of birds speeding like a hail of bullets; the crack of an unspoken spell; a flash of gold; the smell of iron; crimson seeping into the earth. Six bodies littering the dirt. The game of cat and mouse coming to an unexpected close. The thrum of the chase returning to hushed pulse. The evening sung at the returned peace; She won another round. With a deep breath she disapperated. An unseen flash of platinum flickering behind a large fern.
Calculated.
Landing softly into her dormitory, she slipped out of her torn garments, trying not to wake her roommates. Her whole body tensed as she felt a presence in the dark. Her eyes searching the room, snitch still grasped tightly in her hand. The small figure moved toward her, ginger whiskers catching the moonlight falling through the gap in the curtains. A sigh fell out her mouth, she scooped the animal into her arms, placing him gently into centre of her four poster. Holding him tightly in to her chest as her eyes fluttered closed. Swiftly falling into the comfort of silence once again.
Alone.
A singular tear rolled out of her left eye as the realisation hit her. Everything is about to change. Words echoing around her head the same way they had been since they had been uttered for the first time, taunting her. Life had never been easy. Unforgiving and cruel. But she had made her decision the day she first offered to help find a toad on her first trip to her new life. Befriending the boy who lived. Sealing her fate. She had to make sacrifices. Heartbroken.
"The brightest witch of her age." That is what they called her. Hermione Granger. Mudblood. If only they could see her now. A broke facade. A young girl. Alone. Her life torn apart by her own selfish decisions. Her parents... A sob tore out of her throat. Rivers pooling in the corners of her eyes. Hair plastered to her face. Bloodshot eyes. She'd rather them alive than dead. Her pillow soaked in the implication of what she was about to do. It will be safer for them. The motivation pounding though her head as a scream tore through her heart.
tomorrow
/təˈmɒrəʊ/
adverb
adverb: tomorrow; adverb: to-morrow
in the future, especially the near future.
Tomorrow, always arriving but never comes. It had to be today. The day before her departure for fifth year. August 31st. None could know. She has turned down time at the Weasley's making some excuse about a family holiday.
She had always been good at charms. Practicing for the inevitable. People at Hogwarts never seemed to question when whole evenings would disappear from their memory, like the time seven members of Gryffindor couldn't quite place the Yule ball celebrations and after party but she guessed they put it down to the underaged drinking and exhaustion from traumatic changes in tutelage. Memory charms were supposed to be hard with even the most advanced wizards struggling to perfect them. And yet here she was, the evening sun glistening on her cheek, a foreign wand clasped tightly in her sweating palm.
The Trace had been of little issue. It is supposed to allow the Ministry to know of magic cast in the vicinity of wizards and witches who were under seventeen years of age. However, from practicing magic intentionally prior to starting Hogwarts, she realised this was not applicable to her. Whether that be because they forgot to put it in place or just because none of the spells cast had been potent enough, she had no idea. As a precaution, following her fling with Krum, she had managed to acquire a wand from an unsuspecting French man while she was visiting Paris over the beginning of the summer. An 11 inch holly wood wand with a dragon heartstring core.
He had been her biggest project. The reason she knew she had the capability to do this. A Triwizard Champion, his memory of her visit over the summer lost. He taught her all he knew, feeding her thirst for knowledge only to have it backfire at the last minute. In his mind they lost contact after the competition finished, only on occasion exchanging owls about the most recent occurrences in there lives, dwindling out over a couple of months until communication ceased completely. But that was not the case. Her magical core singing with power, as she stood over his vegetative state of post-obliviation after her 6 week stay in Bulgaria with him. A bead of rich scarlet budding at her finger tip from the unfinished horns on the holly on the wand.
She cried. Not for the first or last time. Remorse flooded her brain as her friend from the past months was removed from her life. She cried when she realised she need to make sure her parents were safe for her to continue in this coming war. It was worrying enough having to look after the chosen one. She cried when she realised she had to be isolated. She cried when she never received an Owl from either of her friends in response to hers. And she was crying again in the evening sun glistening on her cheek, the holly wand clasped tightly in her sweating palm as a faint voice called out from below, "Hermione?"
"Coming Mum!"
Composing herself with a sharp intake of breath, she started for the staircase. One at a time, she slowly paced down the thirteen stairs. Memories of her first spout of accidental magic, learning to ride a bike and her Hogwarts letter flooding her mind. They flashed before her as if warning of what she was about to do. What she would be loosing. Her mind could not be changed. Why delay the inevitable?
Their backs were to her on the sofa watching the television as she entered the room. She pointed the wand toward the back their heads. Coward. The charm slipped out before she had a chance at a second thought. Her world finally starting to crumbling from the inside out.
"Obliviate"
Around her the images began to change, erasing her from muggle existence. There was something beautiful in the anguish she felt. The two people would should have always been there for her, lost at her own hand. They would never remember the way they had a daughter. A child. She was selfish. There was no going back now. Her parents dreaming of Australia with nothing to tie them to London. They would be gone by Christmas, that much she could guarantee, tucked away in the furthest corner of the earth. Never to see them again. Orphaned. Memories of a child tightly locked in the deepest parts of there minds. Unreachable.
20 minutes was all she had to finish packing everything she needed into her bags. Undetectable extension charm combined with a feather-light charm to take the weight off her shoulder. She stepped into the smog of the London streets towards The Leaky Cauldron for the night. Her childhood ending as the door slammed shut on her heel. As rain started to pour from the heavens, she sank to the floor on the bottom step up to her old life. Lamppost lights exploding above her head. Pain and fear cascading from her body, sorrow mangling out into the blackness of the night.
I hope you enjoy what you have read so far. All input is welcomed, please feel free to leave a comment!