Complete Together
By J. Lynn
Dedicated to (or blamed on) Nancy and Aja, who gave me the inspiration for this in the first place.
Disclaimer: J.K.R. is god.
There are few things sadder than an abandoned piano.
The thought had come upon Harry sometime during his second year, after running across a small room containing a dust covered piano. It had just seemed so... wrong, that such a beautiful instrument would be left some where, forgotten and neglected, to rot. Things like that shouldn't happen, especially not at Hogwarts.
So Harry had begun visiting the piano, every once in a while, just so it wouldn't be lonely. Over the years, he had come to know the piano inside and out. From the strings that had taken forever to tune properly, to the legs, that had needed special restoration spells on their cracked wood.
In return, the piano had shown him things. It had taught him simple melodies, how to play the simple haunting tunes that he'd never heard anywhere else but in his head, and to cry and laugh and smile in a way that meant so much more on the keys than anywhere else. It gave him beauty and joy and comfort.
They were connected, understood each other like no one else. And somehow, Harry couldn't bring himself to share his beautiful secret with anyone. It seemed wrong that anyone should touch the brittle old keys but him. After all, who else would be able to love it the way he did.
It had been... almost frightening, when he had begun to play one day and it was different. Not bad... just different. There was a remembrance of a melody, that was almost familiar, yet totally foreign.
For a moment he considered leaving, angry that the piano had allowed some one else to touch it they way he did. The way he thought only he could. But the other tune drew him, called to him, and when he began to play he could feel the way their tunes fit together. A perfect match, the other side to his story. And as he played, he began to understand. The other was the same as him, just... different.
After all, the piano wouldn't allow itself to be touched like this by just anyone.
Soon they began to play more perfect, more complete and complex pieces. Things that Harry could never have achieved alone. Rousing pieces, where his fingers would fly across the keys, struggling to keep up. Gentle lilting melodies that perfectly fit the other's low undertones. Pausing in the middle, to let the other's tune take over until it was time to come together again.
As Voldemort grew stronger, their songs grew angrier, more furious. Fighting against coming events with every note, every breath. Before fading into a slow mourning of lost innocence. Harry could feel the pain of the other, and the comfort it offered as well. He would find himself crying, emotions released, as they wrapped their music around each other. And there, alone, yet not, in the midst of the darkness, Harry found his will to go on and fight.
But then the music stopped. And for many weeks Harry's melody was alone, incomplete and aching for the other.
It scarred Harry, more than anything that had happened before. Many of the students had been sent home, and many more had been killed. What would happen to him if his melody, his songs, were eternally alone? Incomplete because they lacked the other?
After Voldemort was defeated, and the students returned, the other's melody was still missing. Harry began to give up hope. It was all he could do to make himself play anymore, to keep the piano company.
But he had to.
After all, there were few things sadder than an abandoned piano.
But as time went on, he found he couldn't do it any more. He couldn't play without the other. It just hurt too much not to feel the other's melody wrapping around him, greeting him, loving him, comforting him. Just as it hurt him to greet, love and comfort wasn't there any more.
So he went one last time.
And as he sat down he began to play his farewell, his love into the old piano. Begging its forgiveness for what he had to do. With his eyes closed, to keep in the tears that persisted in leaking out, he played.
And as he played the melody changed, it became a farewell to the other to. And yet even that was incomplete somehow.
And then, right there, next to him.
The other began playing.
Their songs twined together and it became impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. And as their fingers brushed each other, and the song grew in depth and tone, they played to each other.
Hello.
I'm here.
I missed you.
I'm so glad we're together.
Again.
At last.
Finally.
When the song finally came to an end, Harry opened his eyes, and looked up into the gray eyes of the mysterious other. He looked into the eyes of the silver haired, fair skinned beautiful other, and saw the promise, the question, the pleading.
He reached forward to wrap the other in a tight hug and spoke the words that had always been at the core of their music. Words that were even more true now that he finally knew him.
"I love you."
And as the other spoke the words, Harry knew. Everything would be fine. Because even if no one else understood, he knew he had found his other. They were the same, just different. Together they were more beautiful than either could ever be alone.
Together they were complete.
fin
By J. Lynn
Dedicated to (or blamed on) Nancy and Aja, who gave me the inspiration for this in the first place.
Disclaimer: J.K.R. is god.
There are few things sadder than an abandoned piano.
The thought had come upon Harry sometime during his second year, after running across a small room containing a dust covered piano. It had just seemed so... wrong, that such a beautiful instrument would be left some where, forgotten and neglected, to rot. Things like that shouldn't happen, especially not at Hogwarts.
So Harry had begun visiting the piano, every once in a while, just so it wouldn't be lonely. Over the years, he had come to know the piano inside and out. From the strings that had taken forever to tune properly, to the legs, that had needed special restoration spells on their cracked wood.
In return, the piano had shown him things. It had taught him simple melodies, how to play the simple haunting tunes that he'd never heard anywhere else but in his head, and to cry and laugh and smile in a way that meant so much more on the keys than anywhere else. It gave him beauty and joy and comfort.
They were connected, understood each other like no one else. And somehow, Harry couldn't bring himself to share his beautiful secret with anyone. It seemed wrong that anyone should touch the brittle old keys but him. After all, who else would be able to love it the way he did.
It had been... almost frightening, when he had begun to play one day and it was different. Not bad... just different. There was a remembrance of a melody, that was almost familiar, yet totally foreign.
For a moment he considered leaving, angry that the piano had allowed some one else to touch it they way he did. The way he thought only he could. But the other tune drew him, called to him, and when he began to play he could feel the way their tunes fit together. A perfect match, the other side to his story. And as he played, he began to understand. The other was the same as him, just... different.
After all, the piano wouldn't allow itself to be touched like this by just anyone.
Soon they began to play more perfect, more complete and complex pieces. Things that Harry could never have achieved alone. Rousing pieces, where his fingers would fly across the keys, struggling to keep up. Gentle lilting melodies that perfectly fit the other's low undertones. Pausing in the middle, to let the other's tune take over until it was time to come together again.
As Voldemort grew stronger, their songs grew angrier, more furious. Fighting against coming events with every note, every breath. Before fading into a slow mourning of lost innocence. Harry could feel the pain of the other, and the comfort it offered as well. He would find himself crying, emotions released, as they wrapped their music around each other. And there, alone, yet not, in the midst of the darkness, Harry found his will to go on and fight.
But then the music stopped. And for many weeks Harry's melody was alone, incomplete and aching for the other.
It scarred Harry, more than anything that had happened before. Many of the students had been sent home, and many more had been killed. What would happen to him if his melody, his songs, were eternally alone? Incomplete because they lacked the other?
After Voldemort was defeated, and the students returned, the other's melody was still missing. Harry began to give up hope. It was all he could do to make himself play anymore, to keep the piano company.
But he had to.
After all, there were few things sadder than an abandoned piano.
But as time went on, he found he couldn't do it any more. He couldn't play without the other. It just hurt too much not to feel the other's melody wrapping around him, greeting him, loving him, comforting him. Just as it hurt him to greet, love and comfort wasn't there any more.
So he went one last time.
And as he sat down he began to play his farewell, his love into the old piano. Begging its forgiveness for what he had to do. With his eyes closed, to keep in the tears that persisted in leaking out, he played.
And as he played the melody changed, it became a farewell to the other to. And yet even that was incomplete somehow.
And then, right there, next to him.
The other began playing.
Their songs twined together and it became impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. And as their fingers brushed each other, and the song grew in depth and tone, they played to each other.
Hello.
I'm here.
I missed you.
I'm so glad we're together.
Again.
At last.
Finally.
When the song finally came to an end, Harry opened his eyes, and looked up into the gray eyes of the mysterious other. He looked into the eyes of the silver haired, fair skinned beautiful other, and saw the promise, the question, the pleading.
He reached forward to wrap the other in a tight hug and spoke the words that had always been at the core of their music. Words that were even more true now that he finally knew him.
"I love you."
And as the other spoke the words, Harry knew. Everything would be fine. Because even if no one else understood, he knew he had found his other. They were the same, just different. Together they were more beautiful than either could ever be alone.
Together they were complete.
fin