Perihelion

Or the Lion, the Wolf and the Temporal Mechanics Student

Past Prologue

Her eyes were like pearls of the North Sea, shining in the last light. He stood by her side and held her hand, and they watched the waves break in the surf. Her tears glittered. There would be a storm soon. But the warmth of the summer burned out to them over the water: a beacon of molten gold. In it were being melted entire pallets of red and orange, fringed with delicate brushes of pinks and purples. Perfect as one of Constable's paintings.

He had cried too. Hours ago now, but as they stood resolute he felt the seemingly inexhaustible reservoir rise once more. There were so many to cry for; so much to say, to lament, to mourn, yet he had said only little at the time. He'd spoken and wept, and then there was nothing left to do but go home. Perhaps have a cup of tea, or one of Mrs Weasley's left-over biscuits.

But she was always there. She hadn't left his side. They had kissed, just once or twice when they'd seized a moment alone, but mostly it was the simple act of being together.

It made all the difference.

She breathed out a sob. He drew his arm around her, resting his cheek on her red, red hair. There they stood, just them, the world laid out beneath their feet. Behind them was Shell Cottage, a brief reminder of the rest of the universe, but for now it was just them.

Like standing on the edge of the world.

"How long are you going to stay?"

She'd asked two months ago. He'd stayed at the Burrow at first – they all had. Each was starved of the joy of each other's company, bound by their grief for those they'd lost. They had buried the dead, then, slowly, they'd drifted their separate ways. Percy went back to living in his apartment in London. Charlie went home, as did Luna and Neville, citing vows to write one another the instant they got there. Bill and Fleur went back to living in Shell Cottage. Then there was him. He'd been at a loss.

What happened next?

What could happen next, now that it was all done?

Hermione had announced one afternoon that she was going to go and bring her parents back. That had led to much discussion – logistics and fussing and particulars – but in the end he'd decided not to go with them. Ron had objected. He had sadly shaken his head. They needed the time to themselves for once; anyone could see that. He'd felt old. Tired.

He'd stared at nothing for uncounted time.

Then she'd come in: beautiful, graceful; undemanding. She had taken him into her arms and he'd stayed there. He fell asleep at some point during that long embrace, only to wake on top of soft sheets, her body entwined with his. He watched her doze, hair fluttering over her shirt, and he'd smiled.

Just smiled.

The next day she suggested going to Bill and Fleur's. Mrs Weasley had objected, of course – and it hurt to leave George on his own, Merlin knew it did, but she'd won them over in the end. Something about 'fresh air'?

"How long are you going to stay?"

The light was getting redder. Like a dying flame, bleeding into the sea. The thought of leaving – he didn't want to leave. Where would he go? Because, if he went somewhere, would she be there? And he was struck suddenly with the thought of how uncertain things were. In life, in death; on the paths in between…

Of the wide world and all its wonders, subtle and terrible. And what of the 'could have been'? Of all the 'what if's and 'might have's, the world was full of 'if I could go back…'

And there were whole stories that could be made of the moments they lost to the dusky wind.

"Marry me."

"What?"

"I'm serious." He turned to her, wonder in his eyes.

"But, Harry –"

"Look I know it's sudden, and I know it's totally mental, but, well…"

"Harry…we're only just out of school – we haven't even got our NEWTS yet. We're too…too…"

"Young?"

"Yeah. And I mean, do you…are…are you saying you –"

"Yes." He was almost breathless admitting it. "Always."

She let out a nervous laugh.

"You sure?"

His arms brought her to him, and their lips met with the sunset behind them, silhouetting them in the fire. She lost herself in that kiss, breathing it in as if it was her last breath on earth. When they parted, he gazed at her. And she gazed at him. He held her close and let her see the truth in his eyes: his fear, his need, his longing. He saw something reflected back and his breath hitched.

"I don't want you to go." She whispered, tears sliding slowly down her cheeks. "I don't ever want you to go."

"I just…I mean…anything could happen. Even without…" he let the thought hang. The shadow was still too close. "I just want to do this before we lose anyone else."

He was more certain than he had ever been of anything. She traced her fingertips down from his jaw, a smile playing her damp lips. And there they stood in the silent noise of the world; the hum of insects, and of the sea, and the soughing of the grass and the sand beneath their feet. The light faded on the two figures, yet still they stood, unyielding to the sorrows that stalked the night. He thought her hair looked like the sunset; her eyes like the waves.

Then there was a cry from inside the house, and the spell broke. They could hear Fleur shushing the clumsy Teddy, cooing him with her lyrical voice. She was almost three months gone herself. His eyes strayed back to the woman before him. She watched the smile spread across his face: that grin she'd fallen in love with over and over.

"Marry me?"

"Yes."

A.N: So, it's that time of year again - I re-visited this from last year and this is my first re-edit from the original (though I did edit this prologue quite extensively the first time round). Did a bit of tweaking, mainly some grammatical adjustments and changes to the emphasising features (re-distribution of italics and ellipsises and the clauses in sentences). Just mucking about, really, polishing and checking for errors; ensuring the text flows properly.

I have thought about changing "Pearls of the North Sea" because it's too flowery, but to be honest I'm rather attached to the expression and so left it in (sorry!). The big thing I've changed has been "he had" to "he'd". Just sounded better and caused the pace to be less draggy. I added a couple of lines and cut some short.

As always, my dear readers, will appreciate any thoughts on the matter!

P.S: The original inspiration was Constable's paintings of the sky, they're absolutely amazing! Also, I'll note it here, I'm taking Ginny's eye colour from Bonny Wright (who portrayed Ginny beautifully in the movies) rather than the books where they're brown. Just so you know.