Finding The Way Home - Scene 1
After I asked Kira to set a challenge for me and she gave me the prompt:"H/D 'Inspiration hits you at the most unexpected times' " I came up with this one shot. It consists of six scenes. Today I am posting the first one. I hope you like it Kira!
(beware: unbeta'd!)
1. Scene - Breathing Battlefield
Harry had never imagine it to be like this. Had never thought that the last battle between light and dark would take place somewhere on fresh, vivid green fields surrounded by dull gazing sheep. (Well, they died really fast anyway.) And he had not once believed that he would actually survive the war up to this very moment: His victory. Yet here he was, the last one standing.
All around him laid witches and wizards of all ages on the read streaked grass. A macabre patchwork quilt of pale, twisted corpses. Crows had already settled on the wax like faces picking on drying, wide-opened eyes and bloodied throats.
A broken sob from the ground to his right brought Harry out of his curious musing. He glanced down. A woman he did not recognize was trying to reach for his heavy leather boots, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. Those eyes were of a fascinating shade of violet. Harry stared into their depths until his non-verbal "Avada Kedavra" had snatched all life from them.
Suddenly a breeze of air carried with ghost-like the stench of blood, piss and fear to his nose. The black haired man frowned thoughtfully and apparated away letting the smell chase him from the battlefield. Even though it could not quell the triumph of his final victory, nothing could do that.
He fled to Hogwarts. Home.
(beware: unbeta'd!)
1. Scene - Breathing Battlefield
Harry had never imagine it to be like this. Had never thought that the last battle between light and dark would take place somewhere on fresh, vivid green fields surrounded by dull gazing sheep. (Well, they died really fast anyway.) And he had not once believed that he would actually survive the war up to this very moment: His victory. Yet here he was, the last one standing.
All around him laid witches and wizards of all ages on the read streaked grass. A macabre patchwork quilt of pale, twisted corpses. Crows had already settled on the wax like faces picking on drying, wide-opened eyes and bloodied throats.
A broken sob from the ground to his right brought Harry out of his curious musing. He glanced down. A woman he did not recognize was trying to reach for his heavy leather boots, gazing up at him with pleading eyes. Those eyes were of a fascinating shade of violet. Harry stared into their depths until his non-verbal "Avada Kedavra" had snatched all life from them.
Suddenly a breeze of air carried with ghost-like the stench of blood, piss and fear to his nose. The black haired man frowned thoughtfully and apparated away letting the smell chase him from the battlefield. Even though it could not quell the triumph of his final victory, nothing could do that.
He fled to Hogwarts. Home.