acidpop25: "Forgotten," PG-13
Title: Forgotten
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #32, "Dust"
Word Count: 364
Summary: "There is dust on the windowsill, a layer a few milimetres thick, and Percy drags his fingers through it, revealing the wood beneath in slender trails."
Warnings: Dark, a bit of language
Notes: Post-Hogwarts, post-war.
There is dust on the windowsill, a layer a few milimetres thick, and Percy drags his fingers through it, revealing the wood beneath in slender trails. He could never abide dust. His siblings had always laughed at him, called him prissy, but really, Percy just doesn't like forgotten things. To him, dust is oblivion. Dust on an abandoned windowsill where a boy with messy black hair and hard green eyes had stood, once, and found the courage to challenge a madman. Dust on the bed where he had slept and fucked and dreamed- eyes falling shut in sated exhaustion, body screaming more, voice screaming make it all stop. Dust on the journal with a boy's final goodbye and a man's resolve trapped forever in long-untouched pages.
Dust on a tombstone long since forgotten, because to remember, now, is to die yourself. Let dust fall on your memory, and you may live. For another day, at least.
I let you be forgotten. Percy blinks back the prickle of tears in his eyes and looks out the grimy window at the darkness beyond, where the green and red flares of chaos split the black. Perhaps they have not forgotten, but what good are the memories of the dead and the dying? The past has been lost.
"Harry," Percy whispers, his breath fogging the glass. "Harry." I just wish it hadn't turned out this way.
Death, Percy thinks, would be easier than this, this horrible half-life of forget, repress, resign. He should have done more, goals and career be damned, because what had he gained in the end, anyway? Damned if you do, damned if you don't, and everything real long since gone now. Eternity, five years, it was the same thing, now.
And Harry was gone, really gone, because there was dust on his things on his room on his house on his grave and Percy had loved him, but none of it mattered anymore, none of it, because the whole entire world was dead, and that's all there is to it.
The tears finally fall, rolling slowly down his cheeks to splatter in the dust below.
"I'm sorry." Barely whispered. "You deserve better than this."
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: #32, "Dust"
Word Count: 364
Summary: "There is dust on the windowsill, a layer a few milimetres thick, and Percy drags his fingers through it, revealing the wood beneath in slender trails."
Warnings: Dark, a bit of language
Notes: Post-Hogwarts, post-war.
There is dust on the windowsill, a layer a few milimetres thick, and Percy drags his fingers through it, revealing the wood beneath in slender trails. He could never abide dust. His siblings had always laughed at him, called him prissy, but really, Percy just doesn't like forgotten things. To him, dust is oblivion. Dust on an abandoned windowsill where a boy with messy black hair and hard green eyes had stood, once, and found the courage to challenge a madman. Dust on the bed where he had slept and fucked and dreamed- eyes falling shut in sated exhaustion, body screaming more, voice screaming make it all stop. Dust on the journal with a boy's final goodbye and a man's resolve trapped forever in long-untouched pages.
Dust on a tombstone long since forgotten, because to remember, now, is to die yourself. Let dust fall on your memory, and you may live. For another day, at least.
I let you be forgotten. Percy blinks back the prickle of tears in his eyes and looks out the grimy window at the darkness beyond, where the green and red flares of chaos split the black. Perhaps they have not forgotten, but what good are the memories of the dead and the dying? The past has been lost.
"Harry," Percy whispers, his breath fogging the glass. "Harry." I just wish it hadn't turned out this way.
Death, Percy thinks, would be easier than this, this horrible half-life of forget, repress, resign. He should have done more, goals and career be damned, because what had he gained in the end, anyway? Damned if you do, damned if you don't, and everything real long since gone now. Eternity, five years, it was the same thing, now.
And Harry was gone, really gone, because there was dust on his things on his room on his house on his grave and Percy had loved him, but none of it mattered anymore, none of it, because the whole entire world was dead, and that's all there is to it.
The tears finally fall, rolling slowly down his cheeks to splatter in the dust below.
"I'm sorry." Barely whispered. "You deserve better than this."