granger, hermione jean

Flowers. They were an odd plant-beautiful, yes, but strange. Bright colors marked the livelihood of the vegetation, evoking life from the organisms that beamed under the radiant sun. Yet at the seasons turned, as time prevailed, slowly the beauty began to fade. The flowers would wilt, and die away, leaving only scarce memories of their existence through the new flowers they had generated. People, they were just like those flowers. First they were tiny little seedlings, new to the vivid world of life. And then they shot through those premature stages, blossoming into the full-grown images they had been expected to be. But then they wilted; the people wilted. They wilted and withered away until nothing was left. What, then, was the purpose of springing to life, only to wither away a short time after? If only she knew.

The small, lilac hyacinth twirled about in the petite hands, spinning to and fro aimlessly. Pale blue eyes seemed to be looking directly at the flower, but the line of vision passed right through it, staring off into the empty space behind. Such an insignificant token, and yet it meant so much more to her than a material possession. A few petals flickered to the ground, probably from being jostled too much, but she paid them no mind as she continued her blank stare. It fascinated her so, how such a simple organism paralleled a complex one. There was, however, one difference. No matter how wilted the body or mind might be in a person, the soul remained intact. Maybe that was what bothered her so, the notion that a person could be completely deteriorated and be trapped inside a dilapidated prison of which there was no escape.

You see, with the flower, if they wilted, they just shriveled up and died. There wasn’t a soul inside; there wasn’t a mind behind the plant. Sure, it was still alive, and it still had some sort of structure, but it didn’t talk, it didn’t think. And it would live on through more of its own kind-hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions. There would always be the same flower, rebirthing anew everywhere. But people were unique. They didn’t just spring up again in a new body, they didn’t get another chance at life. A cluster of petals fell as one hand began plucking them away from the stem, leaving a puddle beside the bed. Once they were gone, they were gone. More petals. And they wouldn’t come back. The last petal seemed to make a thudding sound as it hit the floorboards.

Tossing the stem carelessly out the window, the blond folded her arms across her chest, though cold wasn’t the reason. It was, actually, quite warm outside, though thankfully it was a dry heat. Not even a few cool breezes blowing through could have been the cause for such a defeated position. Usually she was so happy, so care-free. There was a twinkle in her light eyes, just like her mother, and she seemed to have such a level-headed outlook on life. Everything was great. But there was a frailty about her now, something that made her look so porcelain, so breakable. Maybe she was already broken.

Most people would disagree with the flower concept, but in her mind, it really was true; everyone was beautiful inside, even if they had an ugly exterior. She had a knack for seeing beauty in everyone and everything. This might have been her reason for having such a positive outlook on life. Honestly, she had no clue. Some would criticize her for not being negative; others would get angry because she wouldn’t get mad at what they had to say. It was just the way Evanna Lovegood worked.

This, however, surely couldn’t be the same girl. There was a blankness about her gaze, an emptiness in her expression, and a coldness from within. She felt numb inside. Never had the girl been this defeated. Maybe there was a reason. There almost had to be, for her to be acting so somber and detached. But she’d never let anyone know; no one could know that she had problems of her own. It would change everything, and she wasn’t one for change.

From day one people had seen Evanna as the go-to girl. The Nick Carraway of the bunch, she withheld judgments and didn’t formulate opinions on anyone. This honesty, in turn, earned her the peculiar position of everyone coming to her to tell their stories and get advice. She was a pillar, a hard place for someone to lean upon. To think that she would actually have her own stories was absurd, in their minds. Or at least, that was how she depicted it in her own thoughts. Ben would probably eventually find out, but even he didn’t know some of her secrets.

Only a handful of people knew the condition of her father’s relatives, and only a precious few from that knew just how much it affected her. Frank and Alice Longbottom were the grandparents she never knew. For years she was allowed to believe that they had already passed, or perhaps that they never even existed; a child’s imagination could let one believe that it didn’t take parents to produce a new child at that age. The first time she was told the story, her father broke down in front of she and Ben-and that image would never leave her thoughts.

That, however, wasn’t the worst. When she had been twelve, she went to see the two for the first time, and finally understood the stories her father had been telling her. It hurt her deeply to know that two great people never got the chance to live, never got the chance to see their son grow up or have children of his own. Sure, they were still there, but they didn’t know what was going on. They were blinded by the pain in their memories to understand. It tore her to shreds, and for a few weeks she seemed like a completely different person.

Eventually, Evanna learned to manage her emotions and push them aside for private moments when no one would figure out what had happened. She could go about her own business, convincing everyone that everything was great, the world was made up of rainbows and butterflies and everything was happy. And it worked-for four years, at least.

“Guys, I think we need to go see your grandparents.”

“Why, Daddy?”

“Well…I just think we do.”

Such few words, and yet they held such a meaning behind them. That August morning they had taken a trip to St. Mungo’s, knowing that something was amiss. And to hear her father tell them that they should think about saying goodbye shattered the few strands of hope left in her. The fact that they might pass before she could see them at winter break was heart-wrenching. But she remained strong, she built up that exterior wall that no one could knock down so in case that time did happen to come, no one would know.

A soft, pained sigh escaped her lips as she shifted positions, resting her head on her clasped hands as she leaned over the side of her bed inaudibly. There was just too much going on in her life-she didn’t need to add sick grandparents on top of teenage drama. At that point, an odd thought popped into her head, and immediately she got up, quietly, and traipsed to her dresser. The illumination of the moon was enough as she tried to dig through one of the drawers of her undergarments, finding the small bathing suit rather quickly due to its sleek texture.

Moments later she stood in the teal two-piece, wrapping her black robes around her and making sure her prefect badge was in view. That done, she grabbed one of the towels seated in a chair in the dormitory before whisking out of the Gryffindor Tower. It felt so unusual, walking the halls after the prefects had stopped patrolling, and she did her best to remain as quiet as possible so she didn’t wake any paintings. Even with that in mind though, it didn’t take her long before she was on the fifth floor, and an even shorter time for her to get inside the special bathroom.

Just the sight at the luxurious spa that was nestled in the middle made her relax a little, and she quickly turned on all the faucets, inhaling the sweet aroma of the scented bubble bath. Shedding the black robe she revealed the not-so-modest bathing suit, figuring no one else would actually see her, (though the bathing suit was a precaution in case someone did happen to catch her) and tightened the strings around her neck before stepping in. A sense of tranquility washed over her, and once the tub was full, she went completely under. It took a good time of being submerged before she resurfaced, blond locks plastering to her skin as she blinked back the water in her eyes.