Happy (very, very, very Belated) Birthday, Ivi!! *hides*
Author - Moi
Fandom - Harry Potter
Title - Raining Roses
Pairing - Draco/Harry
Rating - PG-13
Disclaimer - Simple: They're not my characters. *sigh*
Summary - Roses are symbols of life and love. No matter what color they are.
Notes - This is a stupidly late birthday ficcy for the ever-patient and lovely Ivi (ivi_malfoy) who has waited a horrifyingly long time for this to be completed. *ducks* Anyway, it's very dark, very angsty, and kinda confusing as well, but I hope you like it, Ivi dear. *big hugs*
[ETA: *kicks self, hard, twice*] And also *big hugs* for Cal (sarky_moocow) for betaing this and helping so much, since I dithered quite a bit and ended up needing quite a bit of help. :) As usual, without her help, this wouldn't have become the fic it is here.
Warning: Major Character Death.
Archive Note: Also archived Here at FictionAlley.org and Here at FanFiction.net.
Raining Roses
A petal fell to the floor.
He loves me.
Fingers caressing black velvet petals. A lonely figure contemplating beauty. It was a shame there was no such thing as a green rose. It seemed that neither nature nor magic could capture the magnificent fiery, icy colour found in brave Gryffindor eyes.
Another petal.
He loves me not.
As his finger tripped over a thorn, he pondered. Which hurt more? The fire; desire burning within him under those nimble fingers? Or the ice; an empty wind grazing his skin and wrapping him in its void when he found himself alone and scorned from afar?
A third petal.
He loves me.
Was that love? Sweet heat surrounding him with just one glance? A warmth settling just above his stomach? Cradling his heart and reminding him that someone cared?
He loves me not.
Or was love painful? Fingernails scratching down pale skin, leaving bloody trails in their wake? Being left alone on a cold stone floor? Just waiting to be seen? Not as a pretty wallflower, but the main attraction: the proud, blossoming rose?
He loves me.
At one point in time, he had truly believed he knew love. Whenever that gaze, warm and deep, mysterious and alluring, had been aimed at him, he had wanted to smile. He had revelled in that feeling, the feeling of an all-powerful love.
Glancing at the moon now, however, he wondered how he had fallen for the facade. Did the moon ever feel loved? Soaking in the sun’s rays and holding them close, hoping to never have to let go?
He loves me not.
Two sides to a coin.
Two sides to a person.
Two sides to every story.
People always focussed on just one side, narrow-minded idiots that they were.
"Heads, I win."
"So I lied. How could I love you?"
"You think the papers will believe you over me?"
He loves me.
He hated people for that.
It was why he always chose tails.
It was why he was always cynical and suspicious about every thing, searching for that dark side, hunting for the malicious jackal hidden in everyone’s shadow somewhere.
It was why he always dreaded the arrival of the newspaper in the morning, his gut twisting into knots as he waited for the day when “the truth” would bleed across the front page and shame him further, as he had “shamed” their Golden Boy.
He loves me not.
It was why he refused to fall in love again.
It was why he refused to let himself believe in anyone ever again.
It was why he hated himself most:
for having been like those people,
for having been such a bastard,
for having been cast aside as irredeemable
by the one he loved and had trusted above everyone else.
He loves me.
Abandoned by the one he had thought he loved.
By the one who had meant everything to him.
He loves me not.
He had even loved the dark layers that veiled the dangerous jackal.
Even the shadowy side that was so unreadable.
He loves me.
The darkness which now held him close and smothered him.
Which choked him.
He loves me not.
Shattered him.
Killed him.
He loves me.
A petal. A bitter smile. A final, weak tug.
He loves me not.
A ragged sob. A thorn scratching pale skin. A body collapsing.
Onto a bed of a thousand black rose petals, floating on a sea of red.
* * End * *
Happy birthday again Ivi, I'm really sorry this is so late, but ... I hope it makes up for it a little. *crosses fingers and smiles sheepishly*
Right, I'd better go and sort this computer out. In other words, I need to clear out the temporary Internet folders, run defrag and scandisk and then do yet another sweep with AVG virus-checker. *sigh* After all this procrastinating, I will get on and try to do some more writing. Even if I just end up typing what I've written out on paper whilst at school.
Oooh, don't I live life dangerously?