Naru-chan: Hello, I'm alive from the dead and I come bearing goods. Errr -- or I suppose you could call them bads. Well, before I get into all of that, I want to apologize for my long, long absence... It's not because my muse has left me, because she's still throwing plot bunnies at me by the second, but I just don't have the time or the strength right now to manage everything in my life and fandom to boot. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning any of my stories! I'll finish them all once my life gets back on tract...which looks like around December or January. I'm sorry, but I do hope you will wait until then and still remain interested in my stories.
You might want to visit my new LJ journal! It's in my profile and there I will be posting anything short like drabbles. =]
Anyway, to this story. It's...different. It's very abstract, so please be on your toes! It's my shot at post-modernism. And the lack of punctuation is always for a reason, but don't think that I didn't have my beta read this or that I'm going insane. =] Those who have read Faulkner should be able to follow. Anyway, please enjoy. (You might need to read things more than once.)
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Angst, Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Extreme Language Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 8 Summary: Poem-fic: Sometimes she would smile. Those were the times that he cried. Those were the times he held her unmoving body as close as possible. Those were the worst times. It was because when she smiled, he couldn't help but wish and hope that maybe she was still somewhere inside that shell. Hitcount: Story Total: 3835 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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Colorblind I know that it will hurt, I know that it will break your heart, The way things are And the way they've been, And the way they've always been. –Break Your Heart, Natalie Merchant She was still as pretty as always. She had always been pretty after all, even when she had been younger and her brother had begun to find her presence more of nuisance than a gift. Not that he had ever truly found her company a bother, even though she would look up at him with her wide, brown, limpid eyes full of…what? Full of infatuation? Full of admiration? Storm Windows – Howard Nemerov It was dark. It seemed as if the darkness was creeping toward him, surrounding him with nothingness but black. Swallowing him whole. It was a terrible phenomenon…sucking the happiness from within him. But there were no Dementors here. At least…not anymore. He didn’t remember anymore. He squinted into the gloom, but could not make anything out. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this. This was supposed to have ended! But he had to do this. Failing would be…unforgivable. He treated her horribly then. He, like her brother, preferred not to be burdened with her presence as much as humanly possible. He could easily blame it on her brother, claiming that had been his true motivation and true reason for ignoring her existence, but then he would be lying. Not that it was above him. No. Nothing was above him now. People are putting up storm windows now, A sense of urgency was in the air. Thick and heavy. The gash in his leg had stopped bleeding for now, but it could easily open up again. The others were fighting outside, allowing him to slip inside. Nothing was above him then, either. He had disregarded her then and because of him, she had been used as a pawn in yet another scheme to get him. He still remembered clamoring in that chamber, his pulse leaping against his skin. Where was she? Was she all right? Was she hurt? Was she…dead? He needed to find her. Find her before it was too late. He found her lying against the damp floor, pale, placid, but still breathing. Barely. Relief, happiness, hope flooded him. Then he appeared, and soon everything was replaced with sorrow, regret, and…guilt. Him, him, him. This was all because of him. He vowed that he would never let it get to this point ever, ever again. She would never cry because of him again. Before it was all too late. His silent vows vanished with the wind the moment she was better. No…they didn’t disappear. He simply forgot about them. Or were, this morning, until the heavy rain His heart squeezed with fear. The panic was swelling up again. He wanted to stop and release the burdensome content within his stomach that refused to stay put, but he didn’t have the time. He didn’t have any time. His fingers traced the walls. It was so black that he couldn’t see. This did nothing to assuage the dread that drummed faster and faster in his chest. His other hand grabbed the object that hung around his neck. He couldn’t forget. Refused to forget. Back then, she had loved him much more than he deserved. She was a small, pure little thing, almost completely innocent to the world when she fell in love with him. He recalled, years later, when he timidly asked her if she had actually cared for him then. She had looked at him, with her unclouded eyes, and told him that she had. His heart had filled with so much of something inexplicable that it was ready to burst. He had been ready to burst. Overwhelmed and tongue-tied as he usually became, he did the only thing he could think of to show just how she made him feel. What had they done to her? Was she still okay? He kissed her. He kissed her with everything and more, hoping that somehow she would be able to comprehend – to feel all the emotions that she had created within him. To understand the turmoil that only she could unleash in his heart. He thinks that she did understand. She always had this inexplicable way of understanding him like no one else did, even when he didn’t voice his feelings. Drove them indoors. So, coming home at noon, Now he wishes he hadn’t done that. Now he wishes that he had opened up and let loose that raging storm, even if he would only have stumbled and jumbled over his words, blushed redder than any of her family, and twitched nervously. He wishes he had told her, despite his embarrassment and his anxiety of her response, even though she might not have understood his attempts. Was she still… She doesn’t understand them now. Alive? It wasn’t until his fifth year that he really began to know her. He had noticed her, all those years (how could he not when she blushed whenever in his sight?), but he hadn’t known her. Getting to know her had been something trivial – not even close to important. But then, suddenly there she was, right in front of him, looking him the eye, throwing him mischievous smirks that rivaled her brothers, chatting away as if he were no different from any other normal person, and out of the blue she was pretty. She had always been pretty, of course, but he hadn’t really noted it then. I saw storm windows lying on the ground, No, he couldn’t think like that. She was still with him. She had to be! She was still perfect, still… He couldn’t think of another word. She had always been perfect. She had always been…been…his. He bit down on his lower lip to stop the trembling. He couldn’t cry. Not now. He had to concentrate. She had that delicate scarlet hair that floated down her slim back. Several tendrils would escape from her ponytail or from its confinement behind her ears and whisper against her pale, freckled face. He didn’t know it then, but at times he would watch her quietly, unconsciously. The light would catch against her locks and his eyes would automatically be drawn to her. Perhaps she knew that he had watched her. Perhaps she knew that he had started caring for her then, though he himself had not been aware of it. It would not have surprised him, for she knew him better than anyone else. Where would they keep her? He almost gasped aloud as the pressure built in his chest. How could those bastards have kept her here? In this terrible, dreadful place? What could they have done to her? The many prospects were driving him mad. If they had touched her… Frame-full of rain; though the water and glass He would kill them. [I want you to have this.] However, he had been a fool then as well. His growing affections for his old crush blocked all thoughts of her from his mind. He had a terrible time with his crush, and she acquired a new love. Not that he minded much at the time. That small aching…he had thought it had been because of the other one, not her. Now he thinks that he had misattributed that feeling. It had probably been because of her. He would tear them asunder, limb from limb. It wasn’t until the next year, after that terrible mistake…in which she had been there to support and console him. It wasn’t until that year that, that kiss in the corridor behind the tapestry that he realized what he hadn’t known for half of his life. [Now no matter where you go, I will always find you.] How long had it been since he last held her in his arms? Certainly too long. To feel her warm body pressed comfortably against his as the two of them silently, peacefully gazed at the gently swaying waves of the lake as brilliant green leaves blossomed on the tress above them. |This is…| He was in love with her. What had it been that she had whispered to him as her fiery red head lay contently against his happily rumbling chest? What had been the dolce words that she had said that made his heart race faster? His face redder? His soul soar higher? What had it been that she had said? He had always been in love with her. What had been the words that he vowed to never forget? He wanted to be the one that she was kissing. [You don’t remember, do you?] Oh God…he couldn’t remember anymore. I saw the crushed grass, how it seemed to stream He wanted to hold her, staring into her wide brown eyes, drowning in them. Running with all his might, passing cell after cell, cage after cage, he madly forced away the repugnance that threatened to swallow him whole. His green eyes danced about wildly. Only one bird mattered. Only one. He wanted to be the only one she would ever look at that way. Where was she? Where was she? Where was she? Away in lines like seaweed on the tide He wanted her to love him. [This is the necklace that I was wearing when I met you. Stupid…I’ve kept it for so long.] If he found her, he would remember, he was sure! He wanted her to smile. If he found her, his memories of her would sharpen; if he found her, he would remember the words; if he found her, he would smile for the first time in months; if he found her, he would sweep her into his arms and never let go; if he found her, he would kiss her for as many sunlit days as possible; if he found her, he would tell her that he loved her; if he… [I haven’t taken it off since that day.] As time passed, his love for her grew. He wanted more and more – and yet, he wanted nothing at all. He yearned to simply be by her side, hold her close, give her anything he wanted. He wanted…he wanted for her rosy lips to curve upward, lighting up her pretty face. That was enough. Or blades of wheat leaning under the wind. If he found her. Then the most amazing thing happened. She kissed him. Or he kissed her. It was a spur of the moment thing. Then again, he always followed his gut and he always came out lucky in the end. And with her, he truly believed that he was the luckiest man on the planet. With her by his side, he didn’t need anything else. He wasn’t famous anymore. He wasn’t a spectacle. He was just a boy in love with a girl. |You’re…you’re free, you know that?| But then death came knocking on the door, and everything was changed. Scream! He wanted to scream out her name! But…he couldn’t. If he did, they would know he was there and they would find him and then he’d never save her. Had he just been stupid beyond belief, he wondered? What idiocy had possessed him? How could he have let her stay with him? Death had come once…what would stop it from coming again? And this time it would be after him and all those around him. He was powerless. So he did the only thing he could. He broke her heart – and in the process, he broke his. [Stop. This is where I belong.] He should never have let her go. He knew that now, but what was the use of thinking about it? Torturing his soul again and again? What was the point? He could try to drink himself into emptiness now, but how would that help her? He couldn’t speak. It was as if his tongue had been cut off and he would never be able to again. The feelings that stormed inside of him…would they ever get out? |You don’t have to stay. You can…do anything.| He froze. |You’re free. Your future…| He visited her every day, every night. If he could, he would never leave her side. No…It couldn’t… |Your future is wide open.| No. No. It wasn’t…this c-couldn’t… He would never leave her side again. |I have nothing else after this is over. But you – it’s different for you.| He fell to his knees. She didn’t speak much anymore; usually it was just him who did the speaking. What did he say? Little things, pointless things. Things like the weather, the people, the life outside these white blanche walls. But then sometimes he spoke of serious things. Serious things that he had always wanted to tell her. Blood. Th e ripple and splash of rain on blurred glass Lying there. Broken doll… Her scarlet hair spilled in a tangled mess over her wan face. The pale skin that he had once tenderly caressed was now painted vibrant, too vibrant, shades of black, blue, purple, green… And around her a pool of…his favorite color. |You have a future.| His fingers trembling, he crawled toward her motionless body. No, it can’t be, can’t be… They can’t take her too. Anyone, anyone but her. Not the one thing that he had left, not his sanctuary, not his treasure. Seemed that it was briefly said, as I walked by, Sometimes he didn’t speak at all and would simply sit beside her bed, watching her. She never moved except to sit up in that white bed, in that valley of white blankets. Filigreed. They had wanted filigreed. He wouldn’t stand for it. Screamed, shouted, ripped those sheets to shreds. He knew, as did her family, that she would never have stood for lace. Never had she ever been a… His fingers, shaking terribly, traced her bruised face. She didn’t move. He was whispering to her now. Anything would be fine, as long as she responded. Moved. Anything! The skin he touched was thankfully warm, but…Little by little, he turned her face toward him. Now, in that bed, she always steadily gazed out the window, her limpid eyes now myopic. Those golden brown eyes that once blazed with an amalgamation of drive, desire, warmth, love were now empty. Hollow, vacant depths, pools of nothingness, as if there was nothing there and there had been. The eyes that he once wanted to drown in. Gone. AHHH! [You’re such an idiot. Always going on and on about things like that! How many times do I need to tell you? My future is with you.] He once treasured her strength and how she never became maudlin. She never hesitated to hex someone whom she felt deserved a good hexing and she never surmised to crying unreasonably. Now he wished that tears would stain her placid, white cheeks… Anything. Anything to show… |I just…I just want you to live… I want you to grow old, meet someone you love, go on normal dates, do normal things, have healthy red-headed kids. I want…I want you to always smile. Even if that means without me.| Something I should have liked to say to you, No…not her, not her, not her. Don’t take her. No, w-what have you done. No…N-No! [You idiot! After all this time you still don’t…] Sometimes she would smile. [How can I smile without you by my side?] NO NOT HER NOT HER NOT NO BLOOD DON’T CAN’T BASTARDS COLD NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHAT HAVE WHAT DID YOU NOT MY [If anything happens to you] Those were the times that he cried. [how can you expect me to smile?] Someone’s crying. Someone’s screaming. Someone’s broken. Something…the dry grass bent under the pane Those were the times he held her unmoving body as close as possible. Those were the worst times. It was because when she smiled, he couldn't help but wish and hope that maybe she was still somewhere inside that shell. They arrived, battered, but… Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing… They were calling to him. He could hear it, as if it were a distant echo from a past life. A life he could no longer return to. Despite everything, she would continue to smile absently, gazing steadily into the air. [For ] Do not touch her. DO NOT TOUCH HER! Their hands flinch away. They do not understand how he felt. They could not feel this blackness swallowing him whole. They do not understand a goddamn thing. He cradled her head against his chest. He would not let anyone touch her again. NEVER! Brimful of bouncing water…something of [you…] Hey…wake up…p-please. Y-You promised m-me… [I] You w-wouldn’t leave me a-alone… She endlessly maintains her You said A swaying clarity which blindly echoes [will…] you would Wait… [Wait…] Wa it… This lonely afternoon of memories [Because I –] You said I w-would n-never…never b-be lonely anymore. She’s still waiting to be saved. Still waiting for him to save her just like he saved her so long ago. Just like he did from the Chamber. |DON’T! D-Don’t say it…| You s-said y-you’d be there for me n-no m-matter w-what. You can’t…l-leave m-me like t-th – DAMNIT! She had always been waiting for him. Always. You…can hear it can’t you…? The rain… The sound of the downpour. Pounding my soul, ripping it to shreds. The war’s over and yet…and yet… And missed desires, while the wintry rain From the moment her clear, straightforward eyes landed on him that fateful day. [You…] I never let you say it…did I? The words that I never told you… You wanted to say them to me, just once. But I…I didn’t let you. Is this punishment…from some deity? The words I never told you… I n-never told you… [COWARD!] (Unspeakable , the distance in the mind!) [Always, always, you knew] My tears will be your rain. My heart will be your home. We’ll never be separated again. Isn’t that right…? [that I] Ginny… I…always... |Shut it.| Runs on the standing windows and away. Naru-chan: ...What did you think? Not exactly...happy, but after DH I felt a little bit...empty. I mean, I was very happy that the very main characters lived, but I suppose it was because I had been expecting...well...something. Somehow this came out. I hope you understood. If you didn't, please feel free to ask me to explain. =) As for the poem, I absolutely adore it. If you need me to explain it, I will. Don't feel shy about asking, because it's a poem worth understand. Here's the full version: Storm Windows People are putting up storm windows now, Or were, this morning, until the heavy rain Drove them indoors. So, coming home at noon, I saw storm windows lying on the ground, Frame-full of rain; through the water and glass I saw the crushed grass, how it seemed to stream Away in lines like seaweed on the tide Or blades of wheat leaning under the wind. The ripple and splash of rain on the blurred glass Seemed that it briefly said, as I walked by, Something that I should have liked to say to you, Something . . .the dry grass bent under the pane Brimful of bouncing water . . . something of A swaying clarity which blindly echoes This lonely afternoon of memories And missed desires, while the wintry rain Unspeakable the distance in the mind!) Runs on the standing windows and away. --Howard Nemerov Anyway...I hoped you enjoyed this. thank you for reading. Please leave a review...? ^^ |
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