Raindrops on Roses
Disclaimer: Last time I checked I hadn't transfigured into J.K.Rowling, but hey miracles could happen! Let's keep hopiing!
Rating: PG, because I haven't planned out everything yet and so literally any thing could happen! (Rating may change)
Summary: Love doesn't die a natural death. It dies because we fail to replenish its source, it dies of deceit, betrayal and neglect, it dies a painful death- so let's see if we can't resurrect it ;)
Chapter 1 – Utopia
Utopia, what is utopia? Peace? Violence? Love? Hate? Perfection? Whose idea of perfection? Hermione sighed and lent her head back against the decaying stone that was, of late, her home. She was perched upon the large window sill, and her window was thrown open in an attempt to lure in a nonexistent breeze, to cleanse the stale summer air.
Closing her eyes she tried imagined a cool breeze playing across her face, but her imagination failed to stretch that far, she smiled wryly at her folly and abandoned the task. Swinging down from the windowsill she turned to close the window, shutting out the noise of the city, she stood for a minuet watching the morbid streets which had suddenly become silent. Perhaps this was utopia she concluded, not her utopia, but some one must revel in this atmosphere in order for it to exist, some one must be responsible for the creation of such a place, after all bricks and mortar alone surely couldn't be accountable for such a squalid situation.
Her distopia, their utopia, her utopia, their distopia? Perhaps. Hermione for once didn't know the answers, maybe there were none to be found, maybe there wasn't an absolute utopia, surely not one to fit all. She shrugged and turned away from the window emptying her mind of such complexities; she lay on her bed and waited for sleep to envelope her.
Many miles away similarly complex thoughts were running through the mind of Ronald Weasley, pulling out a draw in his rickety pine dresser, he raked through yet another collection of paraphernalia. Sitting back on his heals he let out a wistful sigh and declared
"That's it! I can't go! Take my regards, but I'm staying right here Harry!"
"What? Ron, don't be stupid of course you've got to go!" shouted Harry from the next room. They were going to Bill and Fleur's engagement party and due at 'the burrow' this evening to greet Bill who had returned from Egypt earlier that day. However disaster had struck half an hour ago, when Ron had began his search for his cuff links. The small house that he and Harry shared wasn't always kept immaculately, and the location of the small cuff links was nothing less than mystifying. Pulling out the second draw of the stacker he tipped its contents unceremoniously onto the carpet and began to riffle through them. It seemed that anything that was mildly important, but for the most part easily expendable, had been rammed into this draw, this had most certainly happened during one of their futile attempts to tidy the place, old bank statements, promotion letters, pamphlets, old school books and much, much more managed somehow to cram into one square meter of rickety draw space. He began shaking about the papers in the hopes that two small pieces of metal might drop from the contents; he looked down hopefully and yet no links. Lying atop the pile in his hands however was a photo taken two years ago of himself, Harry and Hermione on graduation day. He and Harry were grinning broadly and waving out of the photo, whilst Hermione's smile looked almost strained. She held a book in her left arm and was waving lethargically. The animated version of Ron was glancing every so often at her and suddenly he wrapped his arms around her waist and began swirling her in circle, Harry on the other hand was eying the heavy book she was clutching and next time Ron swung her within his range Harry reached out and snatched the book from her unwilling arms, throwing it over his shoulder he joined in with the happy scene, embracing his two friends in a bear hug Hermione looked out from within the photo sandwiched between the two she looked somewhat squashed but now her face beamed with as much enthusiasm and joy as the boys.
"Ron! Were late!" yelled Harry popping his head around the door way "you'll have to make do with out, come on!"
"'k! I'm coming!" he yelled back dropping the papers, and zipping his large leather bag, he threw it over his shoulder and ran for the fireplace through which Harry had just disappeared. And there from the mantle piece barely a foot from the pot of floo powder a pair of golden cufflinks shimmered majestically.