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Language:
English
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Published:
2024-07-03
Completed:
2024-07-03
Words:
46,380
Chapters:
46/46
Comments:
230
Kudos:
1,453
Bookmarks:
793
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66,481

Vows and Other Promises

Summary:

“It all started with a glance.

One glance thrown her way even before she realised that a story had already begun evolving around her.

Before she realised her world was soon to be swept into a whirlpool of colours she had never seen before.”

This is not a typical fic; it does not read like a continuous story.
This is a set of memories meant to tell a story.

I think of this as an experience. The drawings are not just complimentary - they are a part of the story. There are details hidden in the text as well as the art.
The scenes are short, but the art says the words I don’t write.

And to add to the experience - There is a song chosen for each chapter.
Spotify Playlist: Spotify Link
(I recommend putting the song on repeat so it just plays one song per chapter)

Notes:

This series started without a story, rather it began with drawings of scenes I had painted in the Great Hall. But it then evolved into a story I moulded around the scenes I had already created.

This is an 8th year story that ignores the events of book 6 onwards. Voldemort is still at large. That being said, this is a story focussed on the romance, rather than the plot. The plot is more of an accessory to the memories that play out, Voldemort and his obsession with Harry very much take a back seat.
This story also uses time-travel - importantly, it uses canon time-turner in which events that have happened will always happen, but there is a change in perspective.

In keeping with this, this can be read in two ways.
I have ordered these memories in a non-linear timeline. This is a whisper back to the organic development of how the story formed when I first posted this on instagram, but re-ordered to help with flow and prioritising impact. However, it can also be read in chronological order, which may lead to a different experience. (Chronological order in end notes)

The non-linear order will be more confusing, but that is deliberate. Memories do not come to us in chronological order; they are chaotic and random. But other than the beginning and the end, the timeline does not matter - they are just pieces of a much bigger puzzle.

Whichever way you decide to read it, I hope you enjoy!

 

H O U S E K E E P I N G
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this fanwork - all characters are property of their respective copyright owners.
I do however, own all art in this fan-fiction.
- Please do not re-post/re-upload my art without my permission and appropriate credit.
- NO PROFIT should be made using my art or writing.
- Binding for PERSONAL projects is allowed.
- I do not provide high-resolution images of the art freely. However, binding with the embedded watermarked art is allowed with permission.
Further info on my art policies in my bio.

Chapter 1: Breakfast Glances

Summary:

Music: Consolation No. 3 in D-Flat Major, S.172/3 - Franz Liszt

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Breakfast Glances by @Crymsy

It all started with a glance.

When she looked back, that one glance was what she thinks set everything into motion. One glance that altered her brain chemistry. One glance - thrown her way even before she realised that a story had already begun evolving around her. Before she realised her world was soon to be swept into a whirlpool of colours she had never seen before.

He didn’t call her name. He didn’t so much as whisper in her direction. But she felt it. His eyes on her, a soft smile on lips that she had only ever seen pulled up in a snarky sneer. The walls of the Great Hall resonated with a warm, buttery glow, freshly baked and fragrant. The heat of the summer sun beat down through stained windows, waves of heat wrapping her body, halting her breaths. It was only a second. But it felt like a year had passed.

“Come on, ‘mione.” Ron’s voice jarred her back from the haze, thick air sweeping into her lungs.

“Y-Yeah, coming.” She tilted her head slightly, unable to tear her eyes from his stare. And then it was gone. His silver eyes flicked downwards, with a small catch of his own breath, then his whole body was turned away - leaning back, his neck cricking to the side - non-chalantly postured, waiting for his fellow slytherins to catch up. As if they hadn’t just shared a soul-rendering moment. As if she was never there.

Hermione snapped her vision away and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, a slight tremble in her fingers matching the miniature fibrillations of her heart in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing colour to flash in her blank vision and reset her mind. With a small huff to clear her throat, she skipped to join Harry and Ron, not daring to glance back over her shoulder.

It was strange. Confusing. Draco Malfoy - the boy she had spent 7 years of her life rolling her eyes at, spitefully glaring at and lazily scrutinizing, was now holding her gaze, like a curious book filled with pages in a foreign script. Granted, he had been progressively more cordial as the years passed, but a mildly patronising look was all she ever expected from him. Until this moment.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She had more important things to worry about in 8th year. Head girl duties, final year exams, graduation. She hadn’t had any distractions this year and wasn’t seeking for any either. 

When she looked back, this would always be her first memory.

That bemusing glance.

But every memory after that came in a tumultuous whirlwind of light and dark and every shade in between. Her brain would spin and twirl, echoes filtering through her mind in rapid succession, then slowing to a sluggish waltz, before careening off into an inflamed, spiraling descent through clouds of hail and smoke.

She had thought 8th year would be simple. She supposed it was - before it wasn’t.

Notes:

Here is the chronological order:
1, 23, 10, 2, 11, 18, 19, 24, 3, 20, 12, 13, 25, 41, 4, 5, 21, 33, 46, 26, 28, 15, 32, 14, 27, 16, 17, 30, 29, 6, 34, 31, 35, 7, 36, 37, 38, 39, 8, 40, 9, 42, 43, 22, 44, 45

 

I would like to preface this with the fact that I AM NOT A WRITER! I haven’t written anything in many many years, but I have enjoyed it all the same :) And I hope you enjoy it too!

I also just want to thank all the amazing followers on insta that encouraged me to write this alongside the art I was creating. This has been such a wonderful journey for me! I hope those on insta enjoyed the absolute chaos that ensued with each post - wordless posts, accidental fillers and dramatic re-writes included!