(no subject)
So I wrote a drabble, exactly 100 words, of which I am very proud. (Standard HP stuff, though sadder than usual.)
Here you go! See if you can't figure out what's been stuck in my head for the past week.
No one mourns the wicked.
If there was anything less true, in all of history, Remus didn’t know what it could possibly be. At least, for him.
He mourned the wicked, mourned the four friends lost, mourned the good times never to be seen again, mourned their dead past as well as their now impossible happy future.
The rest of the world was rejoicing, ding dong the witch is dead, and Remus could think only of tousled black hair, laughing green eyes, pudgy five-fingered hands, and a cocky well-bred smile to melt his heart, gone forever.
I mourn you all.
Standard requests apply. All comments and critiques are welcome.