(no subject)
A Post-OotP angst drabble. Just something that came to me.
Given the fact that I've said "OotP" and "angst" I'm sure you can guess the pairing/characters.
The flat is completely bare of curtains. It's a double edged sword, though, because there are times when he would like nothing more than to shut out the sun, and the world. He reasons, that if he could, time would stand still, and his grief would follow suit. Given enough time, perhaps it would even move backward. Given enough solitude, given enough quiet, perhaps his mind would lose the sanity keeping him in the present ---- he doesn't think delusions would be such a bad thing anymore.
The flat is completely bare of curtains, because curtains, falling over the windows and spilling onto the floor, look far too much like veils and other such things. Curtains, veils, and archways, all scream murder and death. Curtains, veils, and archways make him want to die as well.
Settling into a new place had seemed like the most rational course of action. The worried glances and concerned eyes of the Order, of his friends, who remained at that empty shell of a mansion, had gotten to be too much over the months. Or had it only been weeks?
A new place, far removed from old memories. But these days all he wanted were those memories. To be lost in a dark room, locked in his own mind, reliving every precious moment he could find.
But the flat is completely bare of curtains, and the light pouring through unfamiliar windows makes his eyes burn, anchoring him to the cold reality that is now.
Given the fact that I've said "OotP" and "angst" I'm sure you can guess the pairing/characters.
The flat is completely bare of curtains. It's a double edged sword, though, because there are times when he would like nothing more than to shut out the sun, and the world. He reasons, that if he could, time would stand still, and his grief would follow suit. Given enough time, perhaps it would even move backward. Given enough solitude, given enough quiet, perhaps his mind would lose the sanity keeping him in the present ---- he doesn't think delusions would be such a bad thing anymore.
The flat is completely bare of curtains, because curtains, falling over the windows and spilling onto the floor, look far too much like veils and other such things. Curtains, veils, and archways, all scream murder and death. Curtains, veils, and archways make him want to die as well.
Settling into a new place had seemed like the most rational course of action. The worried glances and concerned eyes of the Order, of his friends, who remained at that empty shell of a mansion, had gotten to be too much over the months. Or had it only been weeks?
A new place, far removed from old memories. But these days all he wanted were those memories. To be lost in a dark room, locked in his own mind, reliving every precious moment he could find.
But the flat is completely bare of curtains, and the light pouring through unfamiliar windows makes his eyes burn, anchoring him to the cold reality that is now.