FIC: Nothing Gold Can Stay (Roger, Blaise, PG)
Title: Nothing Gold Can Stay
Fandom: HP
Pairing: none, really?
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400 words
Summary: Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.
Additional Notes: For fanfic100, for the prompt Fall. Title, chapter titles and general inspiration taken from Robert Frost's poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay". Written from ccharlotte's prompts: autumn, colour, subtle kissing--which I completely forgot. Shit. Sorry. :\
i. first green is gold
He remembers one of those first autumn nights-the leaves had just turned golden and under the lamp posts the cobbled streets were still expectantly bare-when green eyes had been speckled gold and quiet, refusing to sparkle or laugh under dancing lights and hard drinks.
Roger remembers the nip of cool air at the back of his neck, the rustle of nearly dying foliage as he watched fingers nervously fumbling with a gold band, twisting it around and removing it and putting it back before his hand finally reached out to hold frail wrist still.
"He's not coming back."
ii. only so an hour
Blaise's earliest autumns were spent believing the summer had tanned the leaves as it had him and Theodore from riding in the fields, that winter meant only to pale them all to fade, that spring would unfailingly bring them back, those leaves that never truly disappeared. Green was the colour of life but autumn made them alive, he thought, standing under a canopy of auburn and gold.
His hands slipped into coat pockets, back heavy against a post, sight just a bit hazy until he breathed in and the exhaled smoke cleared his vision.
"He's not coming back."
"I know.
iii. leaf subsides to leaf
It is one of the last autumn nights-nearly winter, if not for the last of the few stubborn leaves, now sickly yellowed, now blood-red dried, that still clung to almost-bare branches of dying trees. Winter had stretched itself out longer than autumn, spring was deceptively and mockingly fresh, and summer, harsh and cruel, leaving autumn little to work with.
The air is cooler now, the rustle of foliage less palpable, thinner fingers fumbling less and this time, he did not hold frailer wrist still, instead fishing through his own pockets for a stick of cigarette.
"What are you doing?"
iv. dawn goes down today
Autumn dappled trees with all the shades of fire, burning them until they crumbled to crisps beneath his feet, an early blanket of dry, fiery snow for the winter ahead. But the streets were swept clean, the crooked branches nearly naked and the gutters straggled with the last of the leaves. He loved autumn for all its foliage and gold but eventually, even the most stubborn leaf lets go.
His ring slipped out from finger more easily; he rolled it between his fingers until it rolled down, away, out of sight.
"What are you doing?"
"Watching the last leaf fall."
Fandom: HP
Pairing: none, really?
Rating: PG
Word Count: 400 words
Summary: Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold.
Additional Notes: For fanfic100, for the prompt Fall. Title, chapter titles and general inspiration taken from Robert Frost's poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay". Written from ccharlotte's prompts: autumn, colour, subtle kissing--which I completely forgot. Shit. Sorry. :\
i. first green is gold
He remembers one of those first autumn nights-the leaves had just turned golden and under the lamp posts the cobbled streets were still expectantly bare-when green eyes had been speckled gold and quiet, refusing to sparkle or laugh under dancing lights and hard drinks.
Roger remembers the nip of cool air at the back of his neck, the rustle of nearly dying foliage as he watched fingers nervously fumbling with a gold band, twisting it around and removing it and putting it back before his hand finally reached out to hold frail wrist still.
"He's not coming back."
ii. only so an hour
Blaise's earliest autumns were spent believing the summer had tanned the leaves as it had him and Theodore from riding in the fields, that winter meant only to pale them all to fade, that spring would unfailingly bring them back, those leaves that never truly disappeared. Green was the colour of life but autumn made them alive, he thought, standing under a canopy of auburn and gold.
His hands slipped into coat pockets, back heavy against a post, sight just a bit hazy until he breathed in and the exhaled smoke cleared his vision.
"He's not coming back."
"I know.
iii. leaf subsides to leaf
It is one of the last autumn nights-nearly winter, if not for the last of the few stubborn leaves, now sickly yellowed, now blood-red dried, that still clung to almost-bare branches of dying trees. Winter had stretched itself out longer than autumn, spring was deceptively and mockingly fresh, and summer, harsh and cruel, leaving autumn little to work with.
The air is cooler now, the rustle of foliage less palpable, thinner fingers fumbling less and this time, he did not hold frailer wrist still, instead fishing through his own pockets for a stick of cigarette.
"What are you doing?"
iv. dawn goes down today
Autumn dappled trees with all the shades of fire, burning them until they crumbled to crisps beneath his feet, an early blanket of dry, fiery snow for the winter ahead. But the streets were swept clean, the crooked branches nearly naked and the gutters straggled with the last of the leaves. He loved autumn for all its foliage and gold but eventually, even the most stubborn leaf lets go.
His ring slipped out from finger more easily; he rolled it between his fingers until it rolled down, away, out of sight.
"What are you doing?"
"Watching the last leaf fall."