Chapter 1 : The Beginning of Time
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The Beginning of Time
When I was young, I used to go into my grandmother’s garden and look at all of the beautiful flowers. I’d take deep whiffs of each type, and I’d think about what each flower meant to me.
Lilies were gentle, with their shapely petals like long, slender fingers waiting to be held in my small hand.
The irises seemed vulnerable and kind. They seemed warm with their bright colours, and their petals opened friendly.
Daffodils were loud and humorous, always seeming to cheer me up.
The bed of marigolds seemed to be pompous, boasting of their bright yellows and oranges, puffing out their petals in an arrogant manner.
The roses… The roses were my favourite. You could watch them grow from these beautiful, small flower, until they became a large, open bloom. And each year they’d open up—just for me, I thought sometimes—and they’d become the most gorgeous flowers I’d ever seen. Each bloom was more stunning than the last.
To me, roses were the most unique of all the flowers in my grandmother’s garden. They represented life in the sense that they were always forming, growing, and dying. When an old one died, you knew there would always be another forming. There were so many that I could watch them all in different stages, just like with people and animals.
When I brought Frank home for the first time, right after our sixth year, I confessed my love of the garden.
I took his hand in my own, yanking him by the hand toward the garden.
“We’ll be back inside in time for dinner, Grandmother,” I called. I didn’t wait for a reply; I just pulled Frank from the kitchen into the backyard.
“Whoa,” he muttered.
I looked up into his beautiful grey eyes and waited. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the amazement etched into his gaze.
“What do you think?” I asked quietly.
He replied in a hush, squeezing my hand, “It’s fantastic.”
I smiled. “It is, isn’t it? Look, I want to show you something.”
I took him to all the flowers, smelling the scent of each type and telling him what I’d done as a child.
“Roses mean life?” he repeated when I’d told him all of the meanings.
“They do to me,” I replied softly. “It’s been that way since the beginning of time, don’t you think?”
He just smiled at me in response, with that crooked grin he always wore.
For years when Frank visited with me, we’d sit in the garden, near the roses. Sometimes we’d talk about things like the on-going war, school, and friends.
We made extremely important and life-altering decisions in the garden, sitting on the stone pathway. It was in that exact spot he told me he loved me, and in that spot he held me while I cried, mourning over my grandmother’s death. On the stone pathway he asked me to marry him, slipping on my finger a small, silver ring, with pink stones that formed a rose shape. We decided to wed there as well, and we did in the wonderful month of May, when all the roses in the garden were in full bloom.
After the wedding, at the reception, Frank and I shared our first dance as husband and wife.
As he pulled me closer, I whispered, “Do you love me?”
“More than anything,” he replied gently.
It was in the garden that I told him we were to have a baby in July, and in late February, we sat in the garden talking about names.
“We’ve got Paul, David, and Richard,” I said, looking at the list in my notebook.
He shook his head. “None of those sound right.”
“Frank,” I said, getting testy, “We need a name!”
Taking my hand in his, he rubbed small circles on my palm. “We still have five months to decide. Besides, we already know what her name will be if she’s a girl.”
I brightened immediately at the thought. “Rose.”
He nodded, grinning that same crooked grin. “And I say if he’s a boy, we name him Neville.”
I swatted his arm.
“What? You don’t like that name?” he asked, rubbing the now reddening section of his forearm.
“No. I love that name! Why didn’t you ever suggest it before?”
If I squeeze my eyes shut, I can close out this hospital ward. I can picture the garden, which I am sure is grown over by now, and remember the last thing he said to me in the garden, when we were both still labelled as sane.
I can remember how I was worried about leaving the baby for the third time that week for work. Our job as Aurors was to continue some hunts of well-known Death Eaters, but I was scared. Friends had been dying left and right, and children were left without parents.
“Don’t worry about it,” Frank soothed me. “Mum will look after him, and we’ll pick him up when we’re done with our shift.”
I nodded, but I was still unsure.
“Look,” he said, “I love you. You know that right?”
“How much?” I asked, starting to smile.
“More than anything.”
“And,” I continued, playing a game we’d started back when he’d visited during summers, “For how long now have you loved me?”
“I’ve loved you since the beginning of time.”
A/N: I know that this was short, and I apologize. I just had the idea bouncing around in my head and thought I should type it up. It's definitely one of the lesser-explored ships, and I wanted to give it a try. I'd love to know what you think through a review!!
Thanks for reading!
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