A Time-Turner is a special timepiece in which an Hour-Reversal Charm has been encased, for added stability. It is a device used for time travel, and it resembles an hourglass on a necklace. The number of times one turns the hourglass corresponds to the number of hours one travels back in time (although, it should be noted that the longest period that may be relived without the possibility of serious harm to the traveller or to time itself is around five hours).
Every nerve tingled with hatred, his bones shaking in anger. How dare she leave him like this. How dare she.
It was the first time in Tom Riddle’s life that he experienced the sinking, crushing, agonising feeling in the pit of his stomach. He would never admit it, especially not to her. But it was there. Growing. Festering.
He couldn’t breathe, letting out desperate gasps and clutching his stomach tightly. It felt like he was in physical pain- but he wasn’t. There was no spell to cure this kind of pain. He let out an anguished yell, and gripped his hair with one hand. What had she done to him?
He’d gone against every single one of his rules, his very understanding of how his life was. He was Lord Voldemort. He used people then discarded them the next second. He wasn’t emotional. He was fucking lethal.
Then she came along. With her big hair and her big mouth and her big ideas. She infuriated him. Her thoughts about the world were wrong. Everything was wrong about her. But then one day he saw her reading by the lake and she tossed her hair out of her face and the sun highlighted the blonde strands and he saw she was reading about the Dark Arts and he confronted her about it and she said “knowledge is power” and she smirked. And that was when he should have left but he stayed with her on the boulder by the lake, talking to her like an equal.
Like an equal. And then they decided to go to the Annual Yule Ball together so they wouldn’t have to suffer alone. And she came down the Grand Staircase in a blue dress and she’d tamed her hair and he knew he wouldn’t let anyone else take her. And as the months passed, and every day he woke up to the weight of her head on his chest, he convinced himself he didn’t feel emotion.
But then he found her crying and he went to comfort her, but she slapped him away and in the shock of it didn’t realise she’d stolen his wand. She cursed him to his knees and sobbed something about “Harry” and “I’m sorry Tom” and then she did something to the strange necklace she always wore and she was gone.
She’d left his wand.
But his finger where the Gaunt ring lived was bare. She’d taken his horcrux.
And now he was there, still on his knees, hating her with every fibre of his fractured soul. He hates her. He hates her he hates her he hates her.
And he’s in over his head, he feels like he’s caving in and he feels everything. He can’t move and now he knows he should have walked away from the lake, but he didn’t. He realises that she used him and she knew who he was and it kills him.
“When everyone was applauding Harry and Cedric’s return, Gabrielle realised that Cedric was actually dead and clapped a hand to her mouth in horror.” –Harry Potter Wiki (this is the only place I’ve seen this, but I ran like mad with the idea)
Fleur: remember, Mes bébés, Tante Gigi will be here soon! What are Tante’s trigger words?
Dominique: Grindylows! I don’t blame her… *shudders*
Fleur: *gives her son a look, he’s hard to resist, though she must be firm*
Fleur: Oui, but only after.
Victoire: Or the Tri-Wizard Tournamnet. You know they’re thinking of holding it at Hogwarts again this year, Maman?
Fleur: Oui, mais non! *agast* Rumors, only. It will never happen again. Not after…
*Fleur is lost to the past*
*Sisters sit in Shell Cottage with café au lait*
GiGi: This is the only good café au lait outside of France! I wish you and Bill would consider moving. The children–
Fleur: As much as I miss home–
Fleur: Oh! Ma chérie! I am so sorry. I should not have mentioned Hogw–
Fleur: How goes your apprenticeship? My sister–a Wandmaker!
Fleur: Of course, you are so gifted–
Gabrielle: I have spent some time seeing…err…what you call–
Fleur: I had no idea!
Fluer: What did your therapist do?
Fleur: A Timeturner?!
Gabrielle: Non. She has adopted a Muggle treatment, called
Gabrielle: The bad memories…the Muggles, they call this
Gabrielle: It is like…
Gabrielle…for a moment…I did not see him…
Fleur: *puts her hand out for her sister to hold*
I am safe, Gabrielle. I am alive. I am here, beside you, now.
Gabrielle: Oui, yes, I know. I see it now.
Fleur: I am so happy!
*outside Fleur’s sitting room, the children can be heard, impatiently waiting to go swimming*
Gabrielle: *stands, leaving the remains of her café to cool*
Gabrielle: And I would like to go swimming with my nieces and nephew!
i’m doing narcissa/james! first take at this pairing, hope you like it :) warning for angst and almost-canon-compliant-ness
Narcissa Black was precisely the type of girl James Potter thought he would never like. Let alone love. And especially not after all those things he’d heard about Sirius’s relatives from Sirius.
He knew what most of the Blacks were like – blood purist, elitist, snobs, basically everything James wanted to stay away from.
Over-expensive robes, an air of holier-than-thou superiority, and an attitude like Ice Queen – those were definitely not the trait James expected himself to fall in love with.
No. James expected himself to love girls like Lily Evans, bright and vivacious and energetic, with a sense of fairness vocal about it. Girls without prejudices.
But no one ever said that falling in love had to be logical. And when he was fast drowning in that regal, posh, enchanting mystery that was Narcissa Black, he had no time for logic anyway.
He’d slowly learnt that the things about the Black family were not as clear-cut evil as he first thought, and not everyone grew up the same way as he did, even if they were both purebloods.
Not rebelling against the tradition wasn’t automatically a trait of cowardice – things were ever so more complicated than that, when your family had been forcing certain beliefs into you since birth, and when your elder sister had chosen to defy them, leaving even more pressure on you.
James Potter loved Narcissa Black, and it was because of her that he started realizing that the world wasn’t black and white, and everyone was an unreliable narrator when it came to someone’s story – or even their own.
Lily was pure like light, but the different shades of grey had their own beauty. And when James finally realized it, he was already in too deep.
And maybe he didn’t regret it.
Until Narcissa told him about her betrothal to Lucius Malfoy.
“I think we both know that this,” she gestured vaguely, “are not going to end with us getting married, right?”
“But why?” James asked, his voice coming a lot more hoarse, a lot more broken that he’d like.
“You said you understand,” she murmured slowly, “when I told you about family pressure. Especially after Andromeda.”
He froze as he looked at her, and she gave him a watery smile, still one of the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I’ll always love you,” she whispered into his ear, and then, as elegant as the first time he’d seen her, she turned away and left, leaving him staring as she faded away in his sight, but never in his heart.
(He never knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep that promise, because after his death, she would spend the rest of life wondering if he’d been alive if she’d married him instead, and decided that she didn’t deserve to love him.)