Title: Epiphany
Author: Ruth Wilson
Rating: PG
SPOILERS: VERITASERUM (all books)
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter Universe, which the smaller, and certainly less grand, universe of Veritaserum inhabits. Jo Rowling is wonderfully indulgent in allowing us fans to wade in her pool of luscious characters, and I want it to be clear that, while none of them show up in this charming soliloquy, she owns all of her characters, and I own only the ideas and applications of mine.
She had gone into her room with unorganized sheaves of parchment and star charts, to gaze into her telescope. She expected little, and knew only a slight bit more. A week later, she left the room, with a hefty stack of parchment, a new thought, very little peace of mind, and a good portion of everything that ever mattered. Her robes were new, almost stiff, as if she had changed before coming out, and her long chestnut hair was pulled back in a messy bun, held by her wand. Her dark brown eyes, though sunken slightly as they should be after a week of no sleep, still sparkled with the light of new discovery.
Everything that matters; and all of it written down, painstakingly, in miniscule script, as defined and descriptive as the human mind could comprehend. 262 parchments of details, written in events and occurrences reaching through the next several decades of her life, and backwards about four full centuries into her future. Some of the parchments had brought a smile to her pale, chapped lips; a select few caused a laugh to peal from her raw throat. More often than not, however, they brought tears to her eyes, and a few of them were still damp from where her sobs had wet them.
Sighing pragmatically, she put the stack of papers on the coffee tables and stepped over to the counter to fetch a glass of water. The layout of the flat where the band roamed freely was normal of one in downtown London, with only a few magical improvements. An extra bedroom had been added, to see that all of the members had a place to stay when they were together, and another bathroom, as it was positively impossible for six women and five men to occupy a space with only one bathroom, regardless of the fact that they were rarely all in the flat at the same time. At the moment, it was only herself and Keilly, Laurine and Richard, and Keilly's ne'er-do-well cousins. Laurine and Richard would be abed several hours yet, but Keilly should be up in a few moments, and Ginger remembered to set the tea water to boil before she turned the tap, letting water splash into her own glass. It was cold, and she almost choked on the crystalline liquid as it poured down her throat. Oh, her body had been nagging her for days over that one, and was finally satiated in its thirst as she emptied the glass.
This, she thought, tracing her finger around the edge of the glass, this was where the pleasure of living came from. Not even her charts and stars could tell her the relief that she had felt upon swallowing; or the joy in it. Nothing could predict the absolute contentment that came from waking in the arms of a lover. And until you experienced it, one couldn't venture to guess the amazement of feeling a life growing inside you while you go about your daily work. Those were all reasons to live, and to love, even through all the pain and suffering and grief one would have to endure to get there.
Quietly, she set down her glass in the sink, and washed it, enjoying the sensation of the sudsy liquid slipping over her skin, like a balm to her soul. Sighing with satisfaction, she rinsed and put to rack the glass, placing tea bags in the whistling pot to steep. Then, satisfied she turned back into the sitting room and taking a seat before the stack of parchments. Smiling, she lifted the first few, and found the line break where she had begun to write at the start of the second evening.
At this point, I am looking at July 23rd, the year of our lord 1992. In three days, I will fall in love, entirely against every instinct I possess. He will falter on his way through the door to this very flat, and smile a weary and apologetic smile, and I will serve him tea and find my heart at his feet before I even know him. He will not understand, not until he leaves. It will feel like so much shorter a time, but he will stay here, in this very flat, for two weeks. Half of that time he will spend in my bed. And our parting will be painful and inevitable, but it will pave the way for what will become so much more.
And at the time, none of us involved will understand the foundation that we set in such a short time.
A small noise from the doorway pulled her attention from the papers, and she smiled, her eyes still shining, at her friend. Keilly Fortuna stood a good three inches taller than her, even without the huge boots she hardly went without. This morning, so early, her crimson black hair was left to play around her shoulders, and her aqua eyes were slightly unfocused and wary.
"Oh, you're done then." She supposed in the blank voice of one still struggling to wake, and Ginger saw her gaze flit back and forth between herself and the papers musingly.
"It would seem that way, eh?" Ginger considered cheerfully, smiling to herself. "I was waiting on you to finish, though." And with that, she straightened the papers, gesturing for Keilly to join her in sitting, and sighing as her friend sank groggily into a plush chair just on the other side of the hearth. "Oh, it might not be for you, but sure and I enjoy a good sit down when it's deserved." Keilly only nodded distantly, and Ginger decided to give her a moment to finish waking, and – not one to waste time anymore – took her wand from her hair, causing it to spill around her shoulders like Keilly's, and lit the logs in the hearth. Smiling, she stared at it, with simple enjoyment, watching as the bright blue flames licked against ash and wood, and delighting in the soft glow they cast over the room.
"Do you know what these are?" ginger gestured to the papers, and Keilly nodded, more awake now, wishing that she knew what her friend did, and could understand what problem with their futures had kept her shut up in that bloody room for seven full days.
"Well, for sure, it's at least what you said you were going in there for." Ginger nodded serenely.
"It is us. It is our future and our past, and everything between the two. Ourselves, on paper –" She laughed hoarsely, "-Can you just imagine?" And, shaking her head, she sat on the floor, taking Keilly in one hand and the stack of papers in the other. "This tells us everything. All about us, anything we could ever care to know about our lives is written down on these fragile sheets of parchment." Keilly nodded, her eyes widening at the prospect; and seeing this, Ginger shook her head sadly. Keilly hadn't figured it out yet.
"And, in learning all of this, in writing it all down, do you know what I've discovered?" She smiled now, and cupped Keilly's cheek in her hand before turning, and placing all 262 pages delicately in the flames.
"What are you-?!" Keilly made to get up, to rescue the manuscript, but Ginger held her back.
"What am I doing?" She asked, watching the pages blacked and crinkle with a delight magnanimous, uncalculated, and pure. "I'm illustrating my point." With this, she turned away from the flames, to clasp Keilly's hands in hers. She felt a stirring need to explain this epiphany, a need to have her best friend understand. "We spend our whole life, Keilly, in the pursuit of knowing, of understanding. But we have it all wrong. It's not the knowing that's important, but the finding out."
"Then help me, help me to put it together." Keilly pleaded, after a long, pregnant silence, as she watched the last page descend into ash and settle on the floor of the hearth, the flames still burning bright and high. "I've all the pieces but no place to put them, and you left me with a promise on your lips to tell me about Severus." She took a deep, internally calming breath. "You just said that those papers are our future; tell me what part Severus plays in mine." Her expression was so stricken, so weary that Ginger couldn't help but feel some pity for her lovesick friend, her blood-sister.
"I can only tell you that the pleasure is in the learning. In figuring out for yourself your own limitations, and your talents, and exercising them." At Keilly's disgusted sigh, she only smiled.
"You're telling me nothing!" She moaned, pulling her hands from Ginger's grip and placing them over her face wearily. She only wanted to know, why couldn't anyone give her a straight answer on anything? First Dumbledore, then Severus, and now Ginger… Would this obscurity never end?? "You give me riddles to make sense of scrambled words in a language that is foreign to me. I know you know - I can see it…. Just tell me." Ginger placed her hand between Keilly's shoulder blades, and began to rub her back, soothingly. If Keilly had bothered to notice, the twinkle in Ginger's eyes at that moment would have reminded Keilly strongly of Albus Dumbledore.
"When and if Severus Snape, or anyone else for that matter, walks into your life, enjoy him. Enjoy every moment, treasure it all; from the times when your heart could burst with love and your bones seem hollow with it, to the times when you're screaming your lungs out at him in a fit of fury. Savor every moment, because no one can tell you how long you will have." She smiled mischievously. "A very stupid man once told me a very wise thing, and that was that when your time is uncertain, every moment is precious." Keilly stared at her, taking in her friend's waxy complexion, the shadows under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks. And she loved her immensely.
"You must be hungry." She said, struggling with tears of gratitude, content with what had been given her. "I'll make sausage, eggs, and toast." Ginger nodded, her attention being caught once again by the flames crackling over the logs in the hearth.
"There's tea steeping in the kitchen for you; strong, as you like it." She murmured as Keilly stood to leave.
"Thank you." Keilly said, drying her eyes on her robe as she walked through the swinging door into the light of the kitchen.