#005, Heaven, Masked_Key, G/PG
Title:Heaven
Author:Masked_Key
Rating:G/PG (I'm not sure how to determine this)
Character/Pairing: Harry; no pairing
Genre: Angst
Warning: OOTP spoilers; character death
Word Count:471
The beginning after the summer after Sirius had died, Harry came down with a sickness. Oh, it wasn’t a physical sickness where his throat itched and his nose ran, or the time when he lost all his bones in his body. No, Harry came down with the blues.
“Why are you moping around all day like that, boy?” his uncle Vernon looked at him. “It’s that crazy school of yours, isn’t it?” He looked at Harry suspiciously as he said that.
“Leave me alone,” Harry mumbled, knowing that there was no way he could tell his uncle what had happened-not that he wanted to.
Harry spend the nights under the covers, his hands holding the pillows like a wrench, hoping against all odds that if he held tight enough, he could bring his godfather back, or at least that he wouldn’t start crying. But the pillow clenched in his hand would always become the pillow suffocating his face, wet from tears. Harry felt he cried enough for Sirius to fill the Atlantic Ocean-all salty as his tears and as blue as he was feeling.
He remembered going to London with aunt Petunia and Dudley once when he was seven and passing a musician playing the Blues. The musician was playing as though all his worries and heartbreaks were poured into those notes. Harry thought he knew what heartbreak was living under a cupboard, but he never fully appreciated the sadness of that musician until Sirius died.
Harry wasn’t always blue after the death. At first, he was red: the color of the fire burning deep in guts, causing him to lash out at everyone: Dumbledore, Lupin, Ron, Hermione, but most importantly himself for being so stupid. But perhaps even then he was not red but blue. After all, the blue part of a flame is hotter than the red part.
Eventually, the blue of the ocean became the blue of the sky. When he was three, Harry heard about heaven. He knew a girl whose mother had died even though neither he nor the girl really understood death.
“Where did your mother go?” he asked the girl.
“My daddy said she went to heaven.”
“Heaven? What’s that?”
“That’s where people go when they die.”
“Die? What’s that?” he asked her.
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s up there.” She pointed at the sky.
Harry’s nights sobbing into the pillows slowly turned into nights staring at the sky. He wasn’t sure if he believed in heaven or life after death or that he would even see Sirius again, but the gentle blue of the sky always came with a small glimmer of hope that one day there would be no war, no death eaters, no Voldermort, and maybe, just maybe he would see his parents and Sirius again.
Masked_Key/ Ravenclaw
Author:Masked_Key
Rating:G/PG (I'm not sure how to determine this)
Character/Pairing: Harry; no pairing
Genre: Angst
Warning: OOTP spoilers; character death
Word Count:471
The beginning after the summer after Sirius had died, Harry came down with a sickness. Oh, it wasn’t a physical sickness where his throat itched and his nose ran, or the time when he lost all his bones in his body. No, Harry came down with the blues.
“Why are you moping around all day like that, boy?” his uncle Vernon looked at him. “It’s that crazy school of yours, isn’t it?” He looked at Harry suspiciously as he said that.
“Leave me alone,” Harry mumbled, knowing that there was no way he could tell his uncle what had happened-not that he wanted to.
Harry spend the nights under the covers, his hands holding the pillows like a wrench, hoping against all odds that if he held tight enough, he could bring his godfather back, or at least that he wouldn’t start crying. But the pillow clenched in his hand would always become the pillow suffocating his face, wet from tears. Harry felt he cried enough for Sirius to fill the Atlantic Ocean-all salty as his tears and as blue as he was feeling.
He remembered going to London with aunt Petunia and Dudley once when he was seven and passing a musician playing the Blues. The musician was playing as though all his worries and heartbreaks were poured into those notes. Harry thought he knew what heartbreak was living under a cupboard, but he never fully appreciated the sadness of that musician until Sirius died.
Harry wasn’t always blue after the death. At first, he was red: the color of the fire burning deep in guts, causing him to lash out at everyone: Dumbledore, Lupin, Ron, Hermione, but most importantly himself for being so stupid. But perhaps even then he was not red but blue. After all, the blue part of a flame is hotter than the red part.
Eventually, the blue of the ocean became the blue of the sky. When he was three, Harry heard about heaven. He knew a girl whose mother had died even though neither he nor the girl really understood death.
“Where did your mother go?” he asked the girl.
“My daddy said she went to heaven.”
“Heaven? What’s that?”
“That’s where people go when they die.”
“Die? What’s that?” he asked her.
The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s up there.” She pointed at the sky.
Harry’s nights sobbing into the pillows slowly turned into nights staring at the sky. He wasn’t sure if he believed in heaven or life after death or that he would even see Sirius again, but the gentle blue of the sky always came with a small glimmer of hope that one day there would be no war, no death eaters, no Voldermort, and maybe, just maybe he would see his parents and Sirius again.
Masked_Key/ Ravenclaw