HP fanfiction - Cold Marble
Disclaimer: i don't own Harry Potter...
Rating: PG-13
Cold Marble
The marble feels like ice beneath my hands, yet I can’t seem to find the strength the lift them away. I am well aware of the moisture soaking through the knees of my pants, yet I cannot find the will to stand. I cannot find the strength to breath. The air is heavy, almost like I am breathing through a fog.
I can only see the name written in stone in front of me. Written in stone, as in non negotiable. Though I have tried. I begged every deity I could. I would gladly trade anything in my power to get you back. But I am told that is not possible. I have been told that I need to let you go, to move on.
It has been three years and I can still remember the way you smell. Chocolate and cinnamon haunt my dreams. Every time I pass a bakery or café I have to fight the urge to look over my shoulder. Each time I do I am hit with the sudden reality that you will not be there, you will never be there again.
I still remember your eyes. They haunt my dreams. The way they looked when you looked at me when I proposed, so happy and full of light. And the way you looked when you knew you were going to die, full of fear and pain. Those eyes wake me in the middle of the night, screaming, almost every night.
I do try to live, albeit halfheartedly. But that is not surprising since you took the largest chunk of my heart with you when you left. I know you would be disappointed to know that I don’t leave my house much, except for work or to come here.
The cold wind numbs my face and dries the tears that I can’t help but let fall. I lift my head to the fading light and can barely make out the black mop of hair that I know is only a few rows down from me.
It is rather ironic, don’t you agree? You pushed and pushed that Potter and I would get along, and now he is the only one that I will let approach me here. We have fallen into a routine, you know. We both show up here on Sundays, the day when work cannot mask the emptiness nor fill the hours of loneliness. He always stops by the other graves first, not because he misses them more, darling, you know he loves you almost as much as I do, but because he knows I need time alone first. He visits Ron and the rest of the Weasley clan first. Then he will move on to Remus, and then he almost crosses the entire cemetery to visit Severus.
Soon he will make his way over here, brushing tears aside. He will take the place beside me without a word, placing his own hand upon the cold marble. We will sit in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts. Then he will start with the stories.
Stories that I have heard over a thousand times yet cannot get enough of. From the chaotic adventures you three had during our Hogwarts years, to the time when you figured out how to get us out from behind enemy lines. I add a few of my own, and it is the only time during the week that I smile.
We will walk out together, and I know that the press used to make a field day of that. Now it is rather old hat, the Chosen One and the Death Eater walking in companionable silence after visiting their loved ones that they lost during the war.
‘Loved ones.’ What an inadequate word for the way I feel. I lost my better half, the only person who believed there was a shed of good left in me.
Most believe I am evil and cold, that this is all an act to save my skin. They cannot see past the surface. Somehow I am amazed that they can’t see the pain, or the self-loathing in my eyes. I can see it in Potter’s eyes. The feeling of being tainted, of knowing that your hands are covered in blood and everyone can see it. True, they all see him as the hero, but they still cut a wide berth when they remember what he was capable of at the tender age of 18. And they have only the tame versions. I have seen the darkness that lives in his soul, and can match it with my own.
We are quite a pair. We are both your boys, baby. And I think the only reason we have made it this far is to lean on each other, because you’re no longer here for us to lean on. I miss you, we both do. I love you, I always will. Now it is time to say goodbye, and know it is only until next Sunday, my love.
Rating: PG-13
Cold Marble
The marble feels like ice beneath my hands, yet I can’t seem to find the strength the lift them away. I am well aware of the moisture soaking through the knees of my pants, yet I cannot find the will to stand. I cannot find the strength to breath. The air is heavy, almost like I am breathing through a fog.
I can only see the name written in stone in front of me. Written in stone, as in non negotiable. Though I have tried. I begged every deity I could. I would gladly trade anything in my power to get you back. But I am told that is not possible. I have been told that I need to let you go, to move on.
It has been three years and I can still remember the way you smell. Chocolate and cinnamon haunt my dreams. Every time I pass a bakery or café I have to fight the urge to look over my shoulder. Each time I do I am hit with the sudden reality that you will not be there, you will never be there again.
I still remember your eyes. They haunt my dreams. The way they looked when you looked at me when I proposed, so happy and full of light. And the way you looked when you knew you were going to die, full of fear and pain. Those eyes wake me in the middle of the night, screaming, almost every night.
I do try to live, albeit halfheartedly. But that is not surprising since you took the largest chunk of my heart with you when you left. I know you would be disappointed to know that I don’t leave my house much, except for work or to come here.
The cold wind numbs my face and dries the tears that I can’t help but let fall. I lift my head to the fading light and can barely make out the black mop of hair that I know is only a few rows down from me.
It is rather ironic, don’t you agree? You pushed and pushed that Potter and I would get along, and now he is the only one that I will let approach me here. We have fallen into a routine, you know. We both show up here on Sundays, the day when work cannot mask the emptiness nor fill the hours of loneliness. He always stops by the other graves first, not because he misses them more, darling, you know he loves you almost as much as I do, but because he knows I need time alone first. He visits Ron and the rest of the Weasley clan first. Then he will move on to Remus, and then he almost crosses the entire cemetery to visit Severus.
Soon he will make his way over here, brushing tears aside. He will take the place beside me without a word, placing his own hand upon the cold marble. We will sit in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts. Then he will start with the stories.
Stories that I have heard over a thousand times yet cannot get enough of. From the chaotic adventures you three had during our Hogwarts years, to the time when you figured out how to get us out from behind enemy lines. I add a few of my own, and it is the only time during the week that I smile.
We will walk out together, and I know that the press used to make a field day of that. Now it is rather old hat, the Chosen One and the Death Eater walking in companionable silence after visiting their loved ones that they lost during the war.
‘Loved ones.’ What an inadequate word for the way I feel. I lost my better half, the only person who believed there was a shed of good left in me.
Most believe I am evil and cold, that this is all an act to save my skin. They cannot see past the surface. Somehow I am amazed that they can’t see the pain, or the self-loathing in my eyes. I can see it in Potter’s eyes. The feeling of being tainted, of knowing that your hands are covered in blood and everyone can see it. True, they all see him as the hero, but they still cut a wide berth when they remember what he was capable of at the tender age of 18. And they have only the tame versions. I have seen the darkness that lives in his soul, and can match it with my own.
We are quite a pair. We are both your boys, baby. And I think the only reason we have made it this far is to lean on each other, because you’re no longer here for us to lean on. I miss you, we both do. I love you, I always will. Now it is time to say goodbye, and know it is only until next Sunday, my love.