Remember, Poem II of "Three Poems for You," d/a
Pairing: Draco/Astoria
Summary: It is her voice that chases away the sound of silence, it is her voice that helps him remember.
Rating: PG
Author's Note: Poem II of the "Three Poems for You" series, sequel to He Dreams (Back). Companion fic to Secret.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
He walks through the wasteland of his mind. He knows he is looking, looking but he does not know what it is he seeks here. And so he walks, walks in endless endless circles in a field of burnt dreams and he thinks that perhaps death is less painful than this, but he doesn't know, know, know, no, she says. To him? Remember - and her voice is coming closer closer closer, and he thinks he knows, knows, knows her - remember, remember that golden afternoon? And when he turns towards it - her, her, her voice, his memory floods in gold wheat fields and bright red poppies. And the colors are falling falling and filling up the empty space. And he is calling to her over his shoulder and the sky is so - blue - the color of your eyes when when you are - with you, he tells her, happy, she says at the same time. And he smiles here, in this place, where her voice chases away the sound of silence. Come back back back, she says. In a moment, I want to get you a flower, the prettiest flower - but you don't need to - for you, just you.
Summary: It is her voice that chases away the sound of silence, it is her voice that helps him remember.
Rating: PG
Author's Note: Poem II of the "Three Poems for You" series, sequel to He Dreams (Back). Companion fic to Secret.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
He walks through the wasteland of his mind. He knows he is looking, looking but he does not know what it is he seeks here. And so he walks, walks in endless endless circles in a field of burnt dreams and he thinks that perhaps death is less painful than this, but he doesn't know, know, know, no, she says. To him? Remember - and her voice is coming closer closer closer, and he thinks he knows, knows, knows her - remember, remember that golden afternoon? And when he turns towards it - her, her, her voice, his memory floods in gold wheat fields and bright red poppies. And the colors are falling falling and filling up the empty space. And he is calling to her over his shoulder and the sky is so - blue - the color of your eyes when when you are - with you, he tells her, happy, she says at the same time. And he smiles here, in this place, where her voice chases away the sound of silence. Come back back back, she says. In a moment, I want to get you a flower, the prettiest flower - but you don't need to - for you, just you.