Title - One Last Time
Category - Harry Potter
Themes - Angst, Hurt, Romance
Rating - Teen
Warning - Character Death, AU - muggle
Disclaimer - I do not own anything.
Summary - It would be the last time they would go down this road together, the last time they could bear sharing the same space, the last time they would even acknowledge what they had together.
A.N - I'm not usually a fan of this pairing however I think it works well with this piece. It's a different style (very description heavy, no dialogue and a somewhat rushed feel to it) that I've attempted and I was proud of the end result. Though I really need to stop writing angst and write about happier things.
Time moves in one direction,
memory in another.
William Gibson
The only sound that penetrated the blanket of silence in the grey car was the rain falling onto the windows. Not heavy enough to awarded with switching on the windscreen wipers but not light enough to be able to ignore it. The sun weakly attempting to shine behind the dark clouds only illuminated how dreariness of the contrasting colours of grey.
The woman wearing a black dress, her dark brown hair pulled off of her face and in a bun was staring out of the passenger window, her whole body turned away from the driver as if the scenery of greyness was fascinating. Though her dark old, broken eyes were not paying any attention to the moving scenery but rather seemed lost and glazed over, caught in her own thoughts. One could almost compare her to a statue due to how still she was, her chest hardly rising with every breath as if it was too painful to even expand that much, if they didn't see her hands in her lap. Her scarred but elegant and long fingers could not stay still, twisting around the ring that resided on her left ring finger. The weight of it so familiar and yet so heavy.
The man driving could not help but continue to glance back and forth at both road and the back of the woman. He opened his mouth a couple of times however he always closed it without ever saying a word, looking to defeated to actually break the silent tension and uniformed understanding between them. Cold sweat was already drying on the nape of his neck against his collar, despite the air in car could be considered cool. His rough callous hands where repeating a cycle of gripping and releasing his tight hold on the steering wheel, his knuckles becoming white and highlighted the scattered scars. His bright red hair seemed to be like a lighthouse through the somber smog of greyness, almost as a mockery considering the mood. There was no place for brightness, only more greyness and mourning colours.
Neither of them spoke as they continued driving, the scenery changing around them into more familiar surroundings, travelling an average speed down an oh so familiar route. A route so heartbreakingly devastating due to it's mundaneness in their everyday lives was now their last time together. The journey that seemed to have stretched long was now too short as the man not bothering to indicate, due to habit and lack of other cars, turned off the main road and onto a lane. A country lane that was full of pot-holes and gravel, which had ditches and hedges on both sides of the road and only had enough space for one car at a time.
It was only at the bumpiness of the new road did the woman leave the swirl of her own thoughts and focused on the present. Her fingers stilled as they laid deceitfully limp on her lap. Her eyes followed a raindrop as it made it's way down the window, her expression of detachment never once changing.
The car moved slowly down the oh so familiar path, one that they knew would be their final journey together.
The silence for itself, holding at bay the endless conversations they could have because it was far too late. They had said, screamed previously alongside throwing things so many things that they couldn't take back. They were far too broken to lie to themselves and each other that everything was fine. So it remained silent travelling down the path until the car pulled in front of the home, no the house that held so many memories that had become swallowed in sorrow.
The house that held so many memories and a ghost that haunted them, turning what they once had a mockery. What was the point of living there when the door that the man had carried the women through stood void of any life. That the flowers they had tried so hard to keep alive were flourishing when everything else was dying. The whispered moments and moments full of laughter echoing off the walls until it was no longer recognisable.
The house was just an echo of home.
The car was switched off, killing the engine making the silence more pronounced. His hand took the key out of the ignition, unbuckling his seatbelt, he left the woman with a bang of the door. A commonplace habit that it did not affected her at all than announce their arrival. She sighed, a sound so weary that seemed as weathered as she looked and felt. Robotically, she went through the motions, taking care with the door and focused upon the ground as she made her way to the house, the door left open by the man. Instead stopping at the coffee table in the middle of the living room, picking up a vice that had consumed her recently.
The man ignored her entrance and made his way to the kitchen, he opened the white fridge which had been cleared out apart from the bottle of whiskey he had placed in their earlier. Grabbing it around the neck, he closed the door not bothering to sit down but leaned against the granite countertop, he ripped the cap off and drank deeply from the bottle, uncaring of the trickle that spilled from his lips and down his top. The sloshing of the alcohol at each deep drink, the hum of the fridge and the occasional dripping from the tap filled the silence and numbness he felt from within.
She ignored his whole presence in the other room; ignored everything of familiarity as stood in the window of the living room, staring once again at the rain. However this time, her mind had not wonder away nor were her hands fidgeting or idle but rather brining up the cigarette she had lit to her lips regularly. The taste of the cigarette burned her lungs and the small part of discomfort brought a small bitter smile to her face. It was the only thing she wanted to feel now.
The smoke obscured her view and she did not have the energy to open a window. The bright ash from the tip of the cigarette was tapped into a small glass bowl whose original purpose was not to be a makeshift ashtray but rather a delicate bowl that once held an origami rose, that now resided in one many boxes that had been packed away. As the cigarette became shorter until the ashy tip was near the filter did she move from her seemingly robotic movement by squashing it down into the glass, turning away from the window and made her way upstairs paying no attention to the direction of the kitchen nor the only closed door on the upstairs landing as she made her way to the main bedroom which she had once occupied.
The room was bare of any homely touches, everything that considered making a house a home had been cleared and boxed down. Only the remaining bed sheet and curtains indicated any personal touches. The object of her attention was the suitcase for her last remaining items of clothing laid on the bed, making crinkles at it weight in the otherwise made bed. There was not a lot of clothes remaining in the wardrobe that was hers and was quickly placed into the suitcase without a care of crinkles nor bothering with taking off the hangers first. Stopping at one item that she had nearly placed in her case was the bright orange hoodie that she had once stolen from the man had become faded from use and washes once used to show his favourite sport team. Slowly she placed the hoodie back in the wardrobe before closing the doors. Her hands shook sightly as she zipped up the case, making sure not to snag any material in the zip.
Picking up the suitcase, she ignored the urged to pull away the creases in the bed sheets and made her way back across the landing not bothering in closing the door behind her.
She paused at the closed door, her mask of emotionless broke revealing agony before being quickly replaced. Her unoccupied hand tentatively reaching out to the brass doorknob but never made contact. Paused in the middle of the air as if she was a statue before returning to her side. She left the half painted room with a crib in the middle of the room undisturbed as she made her way down the stairs, more cautious this time with her suitcase.
She paused at the bottom of the stairs, staring into her reflection at the mirror opposite her. Not breaking eye contact with her bloodshot and empty eyes she walked closer to the mirror and the table underneath it. The suitcase forgotten for a moment as her eyes flickered from her reflection to her ring that shined so innocently and ironically. Without another thought she pulled the ring off, holding her breath as she carefully placed the ring down with care onto the wooden surface. Making a small clink sound that seemed to echo. With less care, she did the same with the keys that seemed to have been making a burning weight in her pocket.
Her attention did not leave her abandoned ring until the sound of a car pulling up reached her. She rolled back her shoulders, attempted a smile in the mirror which only appeared as a grimace before picking up her suitcase and made her way to the front door.
She stood in the frame for a moment as the raven-haired male exited the black car, leaving the engine on with a grey umbrella overhead. Swallowing once, she stepped forwards leaving a whole life behind her. The door slamming shut behind her at a sudden gush of wind, denying her the option to turn back now.
Only when he heard the front door shut, did he stop drinking from the bottle and made his way out of the kitchen and to the living room. His attention focused solely on the woman as she accepted but never reciprocated the hug from the man before he opened the car door for her and picked up her suitcase to be placed in the boot.
He had time to move, to beg for her to stay.
But instead he stayed.
Just watching, respecting her decision, their decision.
It would just be cruel of him, and he didn't want to be cruel again. It wasn't fair on her at all, on him either though he loved her. He loved her so much that his heart was shattering more now than it did back then.
But she loved someone else more, someone who change their who lives despite never being seen by him.
There was no future for them, and neither could they go back to the way things were. He hated it, hated her but loved her so so much. He wanted to scream, wanted to break thing and become unaware of the world surrounding them yet he had done that already. When she needed him the most that was exactly what he was doing.
She couldn't forgive him, and a part of him didn't want her too.
Was this his punishment? Would he self-destruct after watching his whole life crumble around him. Could he manage being in this house all alone until he moved away in two weeks, would he manage to walk away from it all? He didn't think he could. He watch the scene he had been dreading played out in front of him.
The woman did not look back at all and swiftly sat in the car, her back to the whole house as she waited for the other man to get in. Considering how high her shoulder were, it was clear she knew that he was watching her. She didn't bother with her seatbelt, only wanting to escape the memories by running. Not that he couldn't say that he wasn't doing the same.
He could only see a part of her face, one that he used to enjoy every morning waking up to see looked dull. Her features sharp from the massive weight loss and her pallor had taken an ill sickly tone – it made sense as she was suffering from heartbreak.
He watched as the car pulled away, his eyes never leaving until it disappearing at the turn. He watched as the chapter on his life closed with silence.
He waited, watching from the window, praying that she had reconsidered. That she believed their bond could overcome this but only silence remained. Their was no sound of a car returning, no heavy footsteps of someone running back to the house.
It was just him, in a house that once used to be a home and a closed door on what should have been.
It took him a while to actually realised what had happened, that this was reality and the fact that there was no turning back. Only then did he allow the sobs that had been welled inside of him for so long, consume his whole frame. One hand resting upon the glass the woman had previously been looking out of, the other one clutching his chest as he slowly collapsed to the ground.
The rain taped against the windows, the drops rolled down into the window box were the miniatures roses was waiting to welcomed them into its embraced.