Disclaimer: I don't own 'Harry Potter' and I'm not making any profit out of this story.
-Gravity-
Summary: When you fall you can't blame gravity. You can't fight it either. The first time we fell, we were 11 and didn't realize it. Carefree and proud. We never imagined that a catastrophe would happen in our time. But it did. In reality you can't get angry when you keep on falling, because some things are meant to be that way, you just have to do the best of the worst. Gravity don't mean too much to me, I 'm who I've got to be. Follow the story of the other side of Harry Potter and Wizard War II and you'll se that we all hurt, laugh, live, died and love.
Rating: T for language, may become M for gore, use of alcohol and/or sexual content.
Gender: Drama – Romance – Hurt/Comfort – Adventure – Family – Friendship
Pairings: includes DMHG, HPGW, RLNT and more.
Warning: OC's and non-canon, almost AU. Use of French, Spanish, English, Italian, German and Welsh. May contain insinuations of Yaoi and/or Yuri, nothing serious.
Note: so... new chapter, I was going to upload this a last week but I got caught up with the begin of a new year of work and studies. enjoy! this is one of my favorite chapters so far. it has a lot, lot, lot of spanish but as all ways I have the translation next to it and it's pretty much correct. still, might be a little confusing but bear it with me.
enjoy your reading and leave a comment, will you?
Second year: Chapter I. Spanish flowers
"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones."
Daughter - Youth
"Victoria you have been staring at that letter for 15 minutes". Victoria, a young Spanish girl, looked up. She had long black hair, violet eyes and slightly tan skin mottled with small freckles. A man with the same black hair and complexion was sitting on an armchair near an open window. Victoria led back into the sofa, a letter in her lap.
"How do you tell?" The man laughed, directing his face towards the girl.
"Estoy ciego, pero no nací ayer." (I am blind, but I wasn't born yesterday.) He opened his eyes, white and staring at the nothingness. "You got mail, three letters, but you haven't open two of them. Well, are you going to tell me?" Victoria rolled her eyes.
"Vale, vale..." (Ok, ok...) Victoria sighed and looked at the parchment and ink of the letter. She actually cursed in her mind the moment the owl had come with the post. Yes owl post, because both of them were a wizard and a witch. Victoria was fresh from her first year in Hogwarts School of Wizard and Witchcraft.
"Las cartas son de mis amigos del colegio." (The letters are from my friend from school.) She said slowly, trying to find the way to explain it. The man made a gesture with his hands to make her continue. "This one it's from Theo. He is inviting me to spend two week in his manor, before the start of term." The man frowned.
"And what is the problem?" Victoria frowned and shook her head.
"I don't want to leave here dad." The man smiled softly.
"Lo sé mi niña" (I know my child). Victoria opened her mouth to say something but her father interrupted with a wave. "I know. But you don't have to worry for me, I am fine and Gracía can take care of me." Victoria sighed again.
"I know. Is just that..." The smile in the face of her father became a bit sad.
"Ven para acá." (Come here.) Victoria stood up and placed the letter in the coffee table in front of her. She made her way towards her father. Victoria had a long sleeved olive green shirt with embroider designs in the rim and squared neck, cream pants and black slippers. Softly she placed a hand in her father's shoulder. The man was dressed in a similar fashion that Victoria, but his robes were plain, completely white and the neck had buttons.
"Aquí estoy papá." (I'm here dad.) The man raised his head and put his hand on Victoria's, squeezing it. The girl sighed and waited for him to start talking. Her eyes darted around the room. The walls were soft brown and had 'U' shaped red couch placed in the other side of the room. The couch was of the size of the room and was full of cushions embodied with gold tread and in different shades of red. A round coffee table was in the middle of the couch, Victoria's letters on top of it. Above the centre part of the couch was a double door cabinet. An Arabic rug with was placed on the floor beneath the table. In fact, the whole room was Arabic, the rug, the cushions, the cabinet and even the clothes they were using.
Victoria and her dad where next to a big window that leaded to a balcony. It had Arabic columns and arcs, and a view over a stone courtyard, fountain and everything. Victoria sighed again. Outside the window she could see the sun shining on the walls and imagine the cool breezed fluttering around the courtyard.
"Victoria" The girl gazed at her father, really looking at him. He had the same black shinny hair and the same skin colour, but his was flawless with no freckles, and big round white eyes, Gracía -the house elf- often told Victoria that they use to be blue. His lips were pale and thin, his cheeks were somewhat sunken and he had dark circles under her eyes. He looked sick. Victoria squeezed her father's hand to let him know she was listening. "¿Como te ves ahora?" (How do you look now?) Victoria opened her mouth to answerd. "Don't say anything. Come closer." The girl leaned forward. Her father's hand let go of hers and softly traced her face and hair. "Eres una niña bonita. No vale la pena que te quedes guardada en la casa." (You are a pretty girl. It's a waste if you stay stored in the house) Victoria shook her head.
"Papá, me gusta quedarme guardada." (Dad, I like to stay stored.) Her voice was somewhat sarcastic. Her father laughed and then shook his head, like father like daughter.
"Well, it's not ok" Victoria opened her mouth to retort. "No, escúchame Victoria. Anda a ver el mundo que yo no puedo ver. (No, listen to me Victoria. Go and see the world that I can longer see.) And don't tell me you are alone, there are three letters on the table that tell me otherwise." Victoria sighed again. "Stop sighing. You know I'm right."
"Vale, vale… 'Los padres siempre tiene la razón.'" (Ok, ok… 'Fathers always know') She took a big breath. You want me to go, don't you?" The man smiled, but Victoria didn't notice it.
"Si." (Yes) Victoria's fist curled in her side.
"You always want me to go far away." The man sighed, rubbing his chin deep in thought. Then he squeezed the hand of his daughter, a soft look on his face.
"It's not that."
"You want me to leave this summer. And you didn't send me to Salamanca, or to France. You send me all the way to England. That's far away." Victoria's voice was upset. Her father shook his head and laughed.
"Mi niña," (My girl) Victoria sighed and closed her eyes again. "I'm not sending you far away." Victoria snorted. "Vale, (Ok)I'm doing it, but I don't want you to be far away. I have reasons to do so." Victoria frowned, confused.
"Papá, (Dad,)why then?"
"Well, some are fatherly reasons and some others are older promises."
"Papá…" (Dad…) Victoria groaned.
"Ya." (Now.) The man brows furrowed, thinking deeply. "I'm happy that you have friends. That's why I'll like if you spent time with them. You want to grow up and I don't wish for you to miss it. It's true, my health is not in its best shape," Victoria shook her head. "but its normal, yo debería morir antes que tu." (I should die before you.) Victorias frowned and her fist clutched the fabric of his father's tunic. She kept silent, frustrated. There was a tense pause. "Salamanca? You'll go there after Hogwarts. The academy is not that good, the university is better. And I didn't want to send you to France, too much etiquette and elegance. You wouldn't put up with the girls and their excess of make-up and dresses." Victoria made a 'tch' sound, giving her father the reason. The man laughed. "¿Lo ves? (You see?)I really wanted you to go to France, like the other women on the family. But I thought it better.) She smiled to the girl in her lap. "Those are my fatherly reasons. Eres lo mejor que tengo y quiero lo mejor para ti." (You are the best that I have and I want the best for you.)
"If those are your fatherly reasons, would you tell me the rest?" Her father kept quiet for a while. Victoria began to think that he wouldn't say anything. Victoria sighed and was going to walk away when her father spoke.
"No son exactamente promesas." (They are not exactly promises.) Victoria looked at his dad, letting go of the fabric she had been holding. The man kept his hold on her hand. "It was before you were born. It was May, your grandma had opened the yard for the Festival de los Patios (1). It was a hot summer, like this one." He paused for a moment thinking his next words. "It rained that night. It was weir, I remember Eda (the elf of that moment) was worried a lot. She said that the rain was not normal." He turned his head towards his daughter. "A man came to the house. I remember that everything about him was black, his hair, his eyes, his cloths and even his smiles. He said that he was looking for your grandfather, but he had already died." Victoria knew her granddad had died very young, that he had been killed. "Realmente llego a agradarme." (I really came to like him.) He said amused. His voice then sobered. "More than nice, he was sort of… intriguing. He talked about a lot of things but he hid even more. He spent a couple of weeks in the house. In that time things where not right, not a bit right." His voice was full of memories and sadness. Victoria was confused and wanted her father to tell her everything but he didn't. "The man that came, in that few weeks became a great friend of mine. He taught me to not be afraid, to see a new image of the world, of a better world, our world where we can be free and above all, he saved your life." Victoria's eyes were wide with astonishment. She understood why her father liked that man so much. "Él era ingles y estudio en Hogwarts, por eso te envié allí." (He was an English man and studied in Hogwarts, that's why I sent you there.)
"Papá, ¿Dónde está él ahora?" (Papá, where is he now?) Her father turned his face towards the window, letting the sun warm his skin.
"Está muerto." (He's dead). Victoria held her father hand softly, before letting go.
"Lo lamento." (I'm sorry.)
"No te preocupes." (Don't worry.) Victoria sighed and sat on the floor, next to the window. "Are you going to read the letters?" Victora mumbled incoherently. "¿Perdón?" (Sorry?) Victoria mumbles again, this time some words like 'no' 'aburrido' 'complicado' ('no' 'boring' 'complicated') reached the man's ears. "Oh, don't be like that. Gracía come here." A tiny house elf with small and round nose and big blue eyes came into the living room.
"¿Llama señor?" (Mister call?) The elf said in a high-pitched voice.
"Bring Victoria's letter and parchment and ink for her to answer them." The elf bowed and quickly retrieved the letters. Victoria straightened a little when the elf handed her the letters. Theo's was set aside for she had already read it. Hermione's letter was thick, Victoria snorted and smiled, the Ravenclaw did take by heart her comment about interesting letters, maybe she'll answer, maybe. The last letter was from Blaise. Victoria pulled out the letter, black bright ink in white parchment, simple letters in Italian. 'Un fiore per i tuoi pensieri piccola' (A flower for your thoughts little one.) Victoria glared at the words. He didn't have a flower, did he? Her eyes widen and frantically tripped the envelope. A bright dark blue pressed flower fell into her hand. She looked at it, astonished. A Morning Glory. Then she started laughing.
"Victoria, what happened?" Her father said, confused and alarmed.
"Blaise me envió una flor. Una flor por amor a Salazar. Y un mensaje en italiano." (Blaise sent me a flower. A flower for Salazar's sake. And a message in Italian.) His father began laughing with glee. Victoria sobered up, not amused at her father. The man calmed down and asked:
"¿Y eso te molesta?" (And that bothers you?)
"No. I don't know. I didn't thought that he'll do something like that, in the train on our way back he said: 'A flower for your thoughts piccola', but he didn't have a flower." Victoria said and then frowned. "No te rías." (Don't laugh.) Her father laughed again and Victoria huffed annoyed. "¿Que significa una Don Diego de Día?" (What does a Morning Glory means?) (2)
"The flower? He sent you that?"
"Si." (Yes.) Her father brow burrowed in concentration, recalling the meaning.
"Afecto." (Affection.) Victoria shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Would you write back?" Victoria smiled and placed the letters in the floor.
"Yes. I'll answerd Theo that I'll indeed go to his house, to Hermione that I'll see her at Theo's and I'll write to Blaise that I appreciate the gesture." She then leaned back on the side of his father's chair, leading on the man's legs a little. "Pero luego." (But latter.) Her father laughed and stroked her hair.
Later that night, when Victoria was preparing for bed two fleeting thoughts crossed her mind. She liked her friends a lot and of what had saved her the English man that her father thought so highly of?
She didn't linger in them for much time and went to sleep early, dreaming with a pair of quills and a bottle of ink urging (molesting) her to answer letters. The next morning her father was really amused with that dream and Victoria sent her owl, Alatriste, with her (rather short) answers to make her father stop teasing and laughing.
She pretended to be annoyed but her eyes shone with happiness, a shine that her father's eyes also had. Both of them happy that the other was fine.
Because, you know, dying is scary. But in that moment it didn't matter.
1. Festival de los Patios Cordobeses: is a festival and concourse of Córdoba, Andalucía, España that generally takes place during the second and third week of May. The participants open their courtyards and gardens for free so they can be visited during the agreed hours. The courtyards participating are indicated with two pot of flowers placed on each side of the door. To promote the local traditions they are two separate categories in the competition, new and old architecture.
The courtyards are often narrow and most of the flowers and plants are placed on pots on the sides and hanging on the wall. There are also potted flowers on the facades of the houses.
2. Morning Glory: The floriography is the art and language of flowers and herbs. It began in the Ottoman Empire and developed considerable during the Victorian Age (time of ruling of Queen Victoria of England which lasted from 1837 to 1901). The language of flowers was as important in those times as being well mannered or dressed. Floriography was used to convey subtle messages between people because not all things could be said out loud. But sometimes these messages could be really cryptic and confusing. Dictionaries of floriography were published but often had different meanings between each other. Also the manner of the presentation (upside, downwards, left or right) could change the signification of the flower or herb completely. Not to mention bouquets and the interaction between more than one type of flower.
Morning Glory in the dictionaries is often related to affection, coquettish and attachment. But in other dictionaries can found also as instability, (tough is rare). In Spanish, Don Diego de día, is listed as coquettish and infidelity. But, since the meaning we found the most is affection and coquettish we'll stick to that.