Y/n Cordelia Granger lived a happy but simple life in the suburbs of London with her parents and younger sister, Hermione, until her 11th birthday. As the day's sun beamed overhead, the young girl was covered in its light that glimmered with the pro...
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They say time heals all wounds.
Well, Y/n Cordelia Granger wasn't sure who actually said that first, but she was sure they must've never had a wound of their own.
See, she'd become well acquainted with time during its slow pass that summer. It dragged by at a snail's pace and became one of her few companions as she spent her days stuck at home, twiddling her thumbs, and waiting for her blood cells and vessels to rebuild the skin tissue where jagged claws had torn across the bridge of her nose almost three months ago. Her other companions were, of course, her lovely parents and little sister.
In that time, waiting either for her body to produce more collagen or some divine intervention to end the boredom she was forced to endure, she had realized something. The conclusion Y/n reached about the famous phrase 9 days before the next term at Hogwarts was set to start?
It was total bullshit.
The scar on her nose, its faint pink color, elevated bumps of clotted blood, and new skin that resembled braille, were proof of that.
Y/n was being, admittedly, a little cynical. She knew that full well, but it's not like she was all that bothered by the scar on her face or the incident that caused it. No, it wasn't a thought fueled by bitterness but an observation she'd seen that year in herself and others. It felt right, felt true as the humming bass, thumping drums, and electric rhythm of Smells Like Teen Spirit replayed on a loop in her room and mind.
The music reverberated off her walls and echoed in the Granger's home and her heart. Wounds either faded or killed someone, nothing ever healed completely. Not without leaving a mark. She had learned that the hard way.
But, to Hermione's relief, the music and its constant repetition was ended by the sweet singing voice of Y/n's other favorite artist, David Bowie. She'd started listening to Bowie back in the midst the chaos of last year after she and George found the picture of their now retired Professor Lupin in his teenage years dressed as him.
"Pressure pushing down on me. Pressing down on you..." Y/n sang to herself as she danced around her room and threw different clothing on her fluffy duvet.
"How are you going to choose what to wear?" Hermione asked, eyeing her sister's closet enviously.
Y/n paused, turning around and walking towards the edge of her bed with a dress in hand where Hermione sat. A teasing smile was blooming on her lips, happiness still residing in the very core of the eldest Granger despite the troubles that followed her endlessly the past few years.
"I'm going to ask you obviously." Y/n replied matter of factly, her voice holding an emphasis that wrapped around each word with a playful exaggeration that made her sister roll her eyes. Still, she couldn't hide the affectionate chuckle that left her lips.
The Granger sisters were packing their trunks for their next year at Hogwarts. However, this year was different. Not only did the packing list require a formal dress for some unspecified reason, but the Granger sisters also needed to pack clothes for the Quidditch World Cup which they'd be attending alongside their friends, the Weasley and the Diggorys, who had tickets to the World Cup thanks to their family members' positions in the ministry.
