A life, in Pictures. Chapter One.
I used to post here a really, really long time ago and I was recently struck with inspiration for a new story, so I'm making my return! I'm sorry to see that the community has been a little quieter lately, but hopefully we can pick things up a bit, what with the new film out and all.
This is my first series of Hermione/Remus, I've posted a few chapters up at FF.net, but I have a few more written already, so I hope to see this series through.
The chapters are short to start with, but are getting longer every time - just bear with me!
I would really appreciate feedback!
Title: A life, in pictures.
Rating: Teen/Mature in later chapters
Pairing: RL/HG (some background HPGW, and canon pairings)
Summary: After the deaths of two of his dearest friends, Harry visits their family home. He notices a wall of pictures he'd never taken note of before, all pictures of them and their romance, their life, in pictures.
Other: AU. Instead of taking them a year to find the horcruxes it takes the Trio three. They managed to retrieve the locket without revealing that Grimmauld Place was their base. Tonks was never pregnant.
Chapter One
It had been a few months, since it had happened, but Harry hadn't the heart to come before now, still didn't, if he was honest. As the door swung open he saw the dust swirl into the air. The smell of Chanel No. 5, a muggle perfume she'd loved, and some nameless cologne still lingered. They could just have been away, under some foreign sun. Maybe they were.
Now that Harry was there, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He brushed his hand against the banister, swiping away a film of dust - he regretted it, leaving any trace of his own presence here. Damage done, he ascended the stairs, ignoring the kitchen, which had been the heart of this home. He opened the first door that he came too, barely remembering the layout.
It was their library. He had always laughed at this room: if there had ever been two people destined to have a home library, it was these two. The room wasn't big, cosy really, shelves on two walls, covered in books. More books than most would read in a lifetime, but Harry knew her too well - there would be a trunk somewhere full of reducio-ed books. The third wall, to his left contained a small fireplace and two large windows, through which he could see the autumnal sunset. He turned to see the wall behind him and heard his own breath wheeze out. On the last wall were dozens of pictures, maybe more than a hundred. All were slightly haphazardly displayed, some in old ornate frames, others simply planted with sticking charms and some framed by painted pasta and something that looked like colourful fizzing whizbees. Some of the photos moved, others stood eerily still. Every single one had his friends in: a life, in pictures.