#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
It does not seem fitting that the group of three--Hermione, Ron, and Tom--would enter Shell Cottage without the final member of their group, even with Ron's brother owning the beachside home. They are here for Harry, and they've just witnessed a horrid death of an old and innocent friend, a personal blow on their forces of light. So, the three stand outside the door into the Cottage kitchen, watching as Harry slowly makes his way towards them, across the blowing white sands of early morning.
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To their left, the waves crumble down on the flattened shore, sending crests and rumbles of sound clashing into the ears of homebodies and travellers alike. In reality, it is quite loud in their eardrums, but none of them seem to notice at the moment. With Harry numbed by the death of Dobby, Hermione recovering from her torture, Ron worried about his friends, and Tom almost plotting his revenge, nature does not seem all that important in the moment.
Other than to hold the elf within his arms, Tom has not let himself free from Hermione's side, constantly touching her as if Bellatrix will whisk her away if he is not nearby. Of course, the worry cannot be put past him, especially under the circumstance of his love for her, protective above all else. Hermione, always having been independent and strong, seems almost lost in a new identity in this wish to never leave his side. Homely.
The three follow Harry into the Cottage's kitchen without a word, like the soldiers to a leader, devoted by all means necessary. And the kitchen is quaint, with white-washed adornments and a homely smell like that of the Burrow. Within the confines of the room, the newly-married couple of Bill and Fleur Weasley stand side-by-side, one bearing intense scars and the other looking exceptionally perfect. But in the case of either person, they look far better than the Golden Trio-plus-one: Harry is still recovering from the Stinging Hex, Ron's fists are bloody from stupidly hitting the walls of the dungeons, Tom bears a cut on his upper arm where a hex of Draco brushed him, and Hermione has that gruesome injury to recall. Indeed, they exemplify the bloodiness and bloodlust of war more than any eye could imagine, perfectly framed by the room basked in white.
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