Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling and I do not own these characters.
ev·a·nes·cent
adj.
: Tending to vanish like vapour
The start of this all,
The mistake of all mistakes,
The very first time that can't be erased,
The point of no return,
We can't run away from this moment.
1989
Winter
Hermione Granger peeks around her father's head, straining against her seat belt.
"Sweetheart, please sit down. You might get hurt."
Her mother's row of perfect white teeth winks at Hermione and she scowls, her small round face screwing up.
"Honey," Hermione's mother is speaking to her husband now, laying her hand on the steering wheel, and pushing the wheel to the left. "You're not going the right way!"
"I know what I'm doing, love," her father's voice verges on irritation.
Hermione's mother smiles widely. "Of course you do, honey." She stares distractedly out the window and looks agitated. "But, honey, I really don't think this is the right way to go," she says, her voice coated with sugar sweetness but laced with impatience.
Hermione bites back a scream when her father slams at the steering wheel angrily. "Margaret, I'm driving and we're doing this my way!"
Hermione's mother stiffens visibly. Her dark blue eyes harden into stones like they always do when Hermione has been bad. Her smile never wavers, however. When she speaks, Hermione shakes in the back seat, edging slowly away from the storm grueling in the front of the convertible. She clutches her book close to her chest for comfort.
Hermione's mother's voice is soft and dangerous; a thin line of tension that sounds like it's borrowed from someone else. "If you were doing things right, I wouldn't have to correct you, would I?"
"Oh, Margaret," Hermione hears her father groans, his voice tight and drawn. "Please don't, I don't want to fight, we're on our way to a wonderful resort to have a fantastic vacation and I don't want spoil this."
The car swerves, taking a right turn, throwing Hermione left. The seat belt cuts into her chest and she whimpers barely.
"Not a right turn, honey!" Her mother explodes in impatience, the sugar gone from her voice, now stark and bare.
"I already told you, Margaret, I know what I'm doing!"
"Oh please, don't act like you do when you're obviously doing this wrong!"
"Margaret, Hermione is in the back seat." Her father's voice is tired and hard. "She's tired and she's hungry."
"Well if you're going the wrong way then she's going to have to wait even longer before she gets her dinner!"
Hermione's fear fogs the mirror and she forces herself to look away from her parent's, the mask of their perfect marriage falling away to reveal the ugly reality beneath.
Without looking, she knows that they are glaring daggers at each other, each unwilling to give in.
That is why neither of them sees the on-coming car.
Hermione screams, a splitting note that severs the tension in half. She hears a resounding crash and a firecracker goes off inside her head. She hears her mother cry out in alarm and the car flies.
She feels relief overcome her when she hears that they have stopped shouting at each other.
There is something wet tricking down her face and she feels uncommonly hot.
Something cools skims the skin of her cheek. Her eyes flutter open.
An angel's face floats in front of her.
"Are you alright?"
Her mouth opens but no sound comes out.
"Don't worry, someone come soon and fix you."
"Darling, come along!"
"That's my mother calling me now," the angel says. "We're very sorry we crashed into you. Don't worry though, we're not hurt. We're on our way to one of those hotels for a Ministry meeting, Dad's on some important council you see."
"Darling, what do you think you're doing? Leave the little girl alone! Daddy will get someone to fix her!"
"Yes Mommy."
"Come along, darling, we have to get on our way."
"Mommy, will she be alright?"
"Of course, darling, she will be, I promise."
Hermione groans. "Help me."
"Someone will help you soon."
"You're an angel," she says, not with her voice but with her breath.
His smile blinds her. "I'm not an angel."
She lifts a hand to his face and traces the outline of his mouth, smearing blood on his flawless skin. "Oh, but you are."
His face grows smaller as he moves away from her. She has no strength to reach for him but she tries.
"Don't leave me- you're supposed to keep me safe."
"Darling, we're really in a hurry! Someone will make sure the little girl is alright."
"But Mommy, her head's bleeding and it's all over the floor. Her leg looks like it's… all wrong!"
"Darling, they'll fix everything, come along now!"
"They'll fix you, little girl, my Mommy says so and she's always right."
Hermione's vision swims and everything seems to be tinged in red. She feels her head throb and her entire body aching.
Before she gives in to the pain, she feels the print of his hand on her cheek before he leaves her.
1998
Fall
"Oh Merlin help me," Hermione mutters, her eyes stinging. "I never knew planning one Graduation could be so hard!"
Ginny smirks at her. "So regret being Head Girl, Ms Granger?"
"Never," Hermione grins. "I worked six years for this title and I'll be damned if I give it up!"
"Can't keep up, Granger? Thinking of backing out?"
Hermione doesn't bother turning around. "Go find someone else to bother, Malfoy," she sighs.
He appears in front of her, sneering down at her. "Oh I don't think so," he plants himself on the table before her and snatches the piece of parchment she was studying out of her hands. "Food and Decorations," he reads aloud. "Red drapes and golden banners-" His nose wrinkles in distaste. "Oh grow up, Granger, you think only the Gryffindors are graduating?"
She snatches the parchment back. "Get lost, Malfoy."
Ginny rolls her eyes. "Don't you have somewhere else you'd rather be? Someone else you'd rather torment?"
"Actually," he leans down and bares his teeth nastily at her. "No, Weasley. Granger and I," he tosses a dirty look at Hermione. "We make a habit of this. I torment her and she torments me."
"Oh Christ," Hermione groans. "We do not make habit of anything, especially not you and I. Those two words do not go together, Malfoy."
"Head Boy not around?" he taunts. "So you have to do the planning all by yourself?"
Hermione grits her teeth. "Anthony is occupied- he's discussing seats for the ceremony with Professor McGonagall- doing something productive unlike you, Malfoy."
He snorts. "I'm doing something I want to do- I feel that's much more productive, than say, listing out details for Food and Decoration."
Her face heats up. "Screw you, Malfoy."
He looks positively delighted. "To be honest, I really don't mind."
Ginny, on the other hand, looks furious. "It's not funny, Malfoy, Hermione is busy and she has got lots of work to do, so why don't you do the world a favour and go stick your ferret face somewhere else?"
His hands clenches into fists. "Look, Weasley," he hisses but is cut off by Hermione.
"Time out," she shouts, her patience wearing thin. "I've had enough," Hermione breathes. She stuffs her work into her bag and walks out of the Library, without sparing him a second look.
2003
Summer
Hermione bent down to lace up her sneakers.
Something cold slides down the side of her face. She looks up and she falls backwards, in shock, all the breath leaving her.
She sits on her porch, staring up at the rapidly darkening sky, watching snow flakes rain down in the middle of summer.
In a minute, she feels Harry beside her, his eyes wide in shock as he joins her.
"Good Lord," he breathes.
She nods, her fingers shaking.
"It's snowing," he says, shaking his head in astonishment.
"It's snowing, Harry, it's snowing," she agreed. She reaches out to catch one of the flakes and it melts in her hand, it's so real.
She turns to her best friend, her breathing erratic. "Harry," she says in wonder. "What's happening?"
She backs into her house, away from the spiraling mess of white outside and is overwhelmed by the smell of roses. Her hands go to her mouth as she struggles to breathe.
Harry curses, loud and clear.
"Oh Merlin," she cries softly, kneeling down and scooping up a handful of the blood red rose petals carpeting her entire floor, which had been clean barely a minute ago.
They feel like velvet in her hands. They feel like promise.
2000
Winter
"I can't die," he confesses.
She gapes at him. "You're joking."
"Trust me," he tells her. "It's not a joke. I've tried it all- I've jumped off a cliff and been found completely unharmed at the bottom. I've drowned, and I've been in crashes. I don't die. Well, at least not yet."
"It's a miracle," she sighs.
He grins. "It's not a miracle, Hermione, it's a mistake. Do you want to know what a miracle is?"
She nods.
"You are."
She is rendered speechless. The girl who prided herself in having the best vocabulary in her year couldn't find a single word to say.
"I'm not," she managed at last.
"Well, I think you are, because after I met you, really met you, I stopped trying."
"Stopped trying what?" she asks cautiously.
"Trying to die," he answers, and he smiles.
The sun comes up in front of them and she thinks of all the possibilities. What if the time he jumped off that cliff and he died? What if they had never crossed passed? What if she wasn't a witch?
The sky is a symphony of colours.
"It's resplendent," she proclaims.
"So it is," he agrees.
"You know what?" she says suddenly, turning to face him.
"What?" He plays along. He always does.
"When we die," she swallows. "Promise we won't spend the rest of our lives trying to find each other?"
He is silent. "I can't promise you that, Hermione."
"Why?"
"Because I spent my whole life wanting someone like you and I think if I lost you, I would give everything, to have you back."
"Oh Draco," she sighs. "There's not only one person right for you."
"Well, right now, that person is you."
1979
Fall
Narcissa flounders. She grapples at straws of hope.
She struggles to breathe but every cry for help escapes as a bubble.
She wakes up, screaming.
"Cissy, you've been dreaming again," Lucius soothes.
She is slick with sweat. "I know," she whispers. "I dreamt that I was drowning."
He smiles. "I won't let you drown."
"I know," she says again.
"I love you," he adds.
"I love you too," she returns. She curls up on the bed again, allowing herself to drift back into sleep. She dreams again, but this time, she dreams that she's racing through meadows of green.
Her hair fans out behind her and she's laughing. Her bare feet dance over the grass and she's calling aloud. In the distance she sees the silhouette of a small boy, hers, her own, she calls his name and he turns, a smile so beautiful it melts her heart splitting his innocent face.
He races towards her, his arms outstretched and she's crying, tears wet on her face in joy as she realised this beautiful little boy is hers.
He dives into her arms and he swims deep inside.
She jerks awake, panting. Her cheeks are wet and her arms are clutching at her stomach.
"Lucius," she calls and her husband stirs. "Lucius," she calls again.
He sits up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.
"Lucius, I'm pregnant."
A/N:
How was it? I'm pretty excited about this fic because there's so many directions this can go (:
So this will be the main timeframes i'll be going into- 1979, 1998, 200-2003. It's just the general thing, I might decide to take the characters some where else whenever I fancy (:
Please leave a review! I'm still kind of lost about this so any kind of suggestions would be just lovely. If there are any subplots you guys would like to see in this, don't hesitate to drop me a review. I'll give it deep thought (:
-Lissie
