The End of The Beginning
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would not have to think up a disclaimer to make sure my ass doesn't get sued.
If you walked up to a stranger who had been in the presence of Rose Weasley for even five minutes, and asked how much of a delight she was, he would ask who you were, why you were asking him, and why you cared. If you asked a friend of yours who had been in her presence, they would ask why you cared, and if you fancied her. Although the latter is a variable.
Since we are obviously going to get nowhere like this, I'll tell you what they would (most likely) think of the angel that walks upon the name of Rose: a pure, intelligent, blessed miracle upon youth of this generation, who stands out in the crowd merely because of how normal, yet strikingly different, girl she is.
But for an angel to walk on the Earth, it must first fall.
And fall she did.
Into the arms of a demon, hair white as snow, eyes as pale a the moon in the sky, tongue as sweet as honey, and sting more potent than the deadliest of scorpions. A sting that gave the foulest of disease, with a string of infections: lust, love, suspicion, hate, jealousy…And regret.
She had reached the end of purity, and the beginning of sin.
'What a foolish girl', she tells herself, as she lies in her plucked, black feathers, stained with her tears. 'A demon cannot love an angel, and an angel cannot love a demon. Demons only lust for demons, and angels remain pure. Pure for the Father, for without him, there would be only sin.'
She snuggles closer into the feathers. 'The dirt are not his children.'
A rose may be pretty, a symbolism or love, friendship or purity, but like every flower, it must be nourished. Preened. Loved. Or the weeds will grow, and the thorns will increase, till the bud has withered and only the bad things remain.
But a flower can be saved from it's wilting, if it is given to the right carer. They will trim the thorns, remove the weeds, one by one, until perfection is reached.
And so, Rose waits. For the end of suffering, and the beginning of bloom. The beginning of salvation. The beginning of her heaven. She waits for a new beginning.
AN: Okay, so I just sorta blew the dust off this one and decided to upload it. And then I realised I went slightly overboard with the Biblical motifs. And the rest of the metaphors...shuddup, I like metaphors. Sorry.
I eat reveiws.