Disclaimer: If JKR knew what I was doing with her characters, she'd smash my laptop and run over it thousands of times with a car before pouring tea all over it and laughing as it smoked in its untimely demise…
Title: And Sleep The Would Never Come
Art: Not at the moment, no.
Warnings: IMPLIED SLASH SS/HP
Summary: At night I would lay about the bed and close my eyes. Your beautiful smile would paint the skies and your eyes would scorch my soul. At night, I'd feel you lay with me… And the sleep would never come.
Even when I closed my eyes and wish as hard as I would... the sleep would never come...
A beautiful bed of white rose petals... sides lined with white lilies... ivy climbing through every crevice and corner, climbing along gold. White feathers created a small bouquet linking with the ivy, poppies springing out from between them... a white pillow support your head, the gold tassels mingling with your raven hair, contrasting your ivory skin. You looked so beautiful like that. In your dark green robes and your cheeks with a faint blush. Your coral pink lips tilted up at the corners, even as they hold no emotion at all, giving the illusion that you were smiling… even when you weren't.
I wasn't going to paint a picture of your life, but even just the illusion of a smile was all I needed to remind myself, that yes, you did smile in life… even when I never found a reason to smile myself. You would find joy in the smallest of measures and pleasure in the tiniest of sentiments. A flower could be forever; a kiss, an everlasting high. I never minded giving you just that. I never minded ruining something very important just to reach you. I never minded having to face terrible publicity...
Even if it was just for you.
It looked as if you were sleeping. And for the moment I could pretend that you were. Laying there in your crystal case, smiling softly at me as you were wont to do. Pulling at my heart stings like a master…
It never hurt more than it did just then.
I cleaned and I dressed you. I remember your soft skin beneath the touch of my rough hands. You used to tell me how much you loved my hands... now... now you said nothing.
Who can say why the heart cries as your love dies?
It's like an internal being grabs the heart a begins to squeeze. It attempts to squeeze out the pain and hurt like wringing out a towel or sponge. You squeeze harder in attempt to wring out the water, but you never truly get all of it. In the end, it's still wet; damp. Likewise, the harder this being squeezes your heart, the more it hurts. When the being finally lets go... your heart still feels the pain like a dull ache...
And it's still there.
Sometimes I think it is our own selves who attempt to wring the pain an sorrow from our own heart. Then, sometimes, there are just those of us who aren't strong enough and we let our hearts soak in the murky waters of hurt.
I find myself doing both.
And losing strength everyday.
I watch your friends as they go minutely through their own lives. How they can't seem to work around that large gap that you left when passing a note or even a word. Draco Malfoy even seemed to feel the affects of your absence. I would often catch him staring at your seat, muttering words to himself that seemed to not make sense to anyone else but you two.
Now… only to him and him alone.
You made us promise to carry on in our lives. You made us promise not to dwell, leaving only our memories to anchor you to our dreams. And in these dreams we see your smile, aching just to see it again. Just to see it real. Burning with that fire you always had.
Moths drawn to an empty flame.
Your spot at the table in the great hall was left open. No one dare sit in it. No one dare stare. It was almost as if you were still there. Dobby would still fix your bed in the morning. When he would come the next day and find it neat as the day before…
I could still hear him crying out that you were missing…
The last of the golden trio still caused as much trouble as if you were still there dictating them. Weasley… he never came to grips that you were gone… but he understood that you were not there. Everyone had seemed to do the same. I knew you weren't there, but there were those who truly believed you were.
At least your little muggleborn friend thought so.
I would often hear her holding conversations with herself. She would deny this, you know. She had said that she was talking to you. She would still fix your dish at the table, make an extra copy of her notes to give to you and still hold your private conversations in the dark by the lake.
And for a moment, I saw you.
I could see the truth in her words. I could see the truth in her eyes. She honestly believed you were there. More often than not, she would try to incorporate me into your nightly conversations. She would laugh, she would cry, she would visit your bed in the infirmary.
She was taken to St. Mungo's at the end of her last year.
I almost wish that she was still here and telling me the things you say. Perhaps I wished too hard, or maybe not nearly hard enough… but you never came to me. I could feel you, but your presence seemed to lack the warmth that you harbored in endless vast amounts in life. The same endless vast amounts that warmed my icy whole.
Is there no way to give me a sign that you are okay?
Cold.
Our rooms were so cold without you. The fire burned in the grate, but no heat came. Perhaps heat did extend her fiery hand, but I couldn't feel it. Maybe I didn't want to. That would seem like me, wouldn't it? I chuckle to myself lightly. That would be something similar to what you would say.
Similar.
But not quite.
The only room that was warmed with your constant presence, was our room. Our room. No matter how long I've been gone, or how far away I go, you would always be waiting for me here. Cold sheets seemed to warm with just a touch of you.
Your heartbreaking touches, gentle looks, and soft laughter.
How I longed to see, hear… feel you again… My memories may keep you here, but they just ease the pain inside. I can only imagine you being here. Yet… I can still feel you here, silently whispering, silently crying…
Was it so wrong to want to join you? Was it so wrong to wish to lay in your crystal bed next to you on your cover of roses?
I'd sleep forever with you if I could just hold you in my arms.
At night I would lay about the bed and close my eyes. Your beautiful smile would paint the skies and your eyes would scorch my soul. At night, I'd feel you lay with me…
…And the sleep would never come.
Finite
A/N:
Oh my! Last night, I watched some sort of American TV program called HBO. It shows a ton of different movies without the hassle of commercials. After some strange movie called Happy Feet went off, Harry Potter (OotP) was coming on. The way the announcer had me falling over with peals of laughter. Some Americans say Voldemort so funny! Instead of: Vol-de-mort the announcer went all out and said Vol-Dee-moRT 'has returned' and blah blah blah.
You really have to hear it in order to really understand the funny in it I guess... I like American accents though.
Anyway, I bet you can't tell who died. Well... maybe you can. No, you can. It's too easy not to notice. Dang. Oh, well. The first person to get it right gets to choose the next pairing and storyline I guess. Yeah... that or art for one of their own creations.
R&R Please and Thank you!