Black Orchid
Disclaimer: Donít own ëem. Want to, though.
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He remembers where he is, and why he is here. He has memories of a life that he lived once upon a time, what feels like years ago. He knows that is silly, for he knows that he hasnít been here long. He remembers faces, he remembers laughter, he remembers tears tinged with green.
Green. He thinks he should hate that color, but he doesnít know why.
He has a memory of when he was younger, wandering around the garden of his grandparents estate. He remembers bending down and peering at an orchid colored obsidian.
His life before comes back to him in flashes colored in shades of gray. The people he know, the places he went...all inked in marvelous black and white.
He remembers a girl and a dance that never seemed to end.
He remembers classes and homework and friends that wanted to be anywhere but stuck in a dingy classroom studying for the next transfiguration exam.
He remembers many things.
But he doesnít remember names.
In truth, itís hard to remember himself sometimes. He remembers looking in the mirror on the morning of the day he died. He has a memory of gray eyes and blonde hair and a handsome face that labeled him the most sought after young man in school.
He smiles, remembering the girl with the dark hair and replaying the memory of the dance. He remembers that she was pretty and sweet. He remembers spinning her around the room - the two of them laughing. He allows himself the pleasure of the memory of the Great Hall lit up for the Yule Ball. He remembers the faces of his fellow students as they danced with their partners in a flurry of cloth and smiles. He stands still in the memory, watching them in black and white. He sighs, and tries to remember something else when a shot of green catches his attention from the corner of his eyes.
He turns, and stands frozen.
A young boy dances with a pretty indian girl, handsome and vibrant in bottle green robes that match perfectly with brilliant green eyes. He blinks rapidly at the sudden invasion of color and wonders why this boy stands out while the others fade to gray.
He frowns and tries to remember names.
Cedric.
A smile. That is his own name, he remembers. The pretty girl is Cho. He laughs in triumph and turns back to the vision in green.
He feels he knows this boy. The handsome child shown in such color. He frowns again and goes to take a step forward -
The vision vanishes, and he finds himself alone again.
He howls at the loss and seeks to remember the boy again. Somewhere he knows he is becoming obsessed, but he doesnít care. He craves the color that stands in contrast between the blacks and the grays of his world.
He remembers standing in the courtyard with friends as the boy walks up and speaks. He tries, but he doesnít remember the words.
He remembers watching from the stands as the boy flew, matching wits with a dragon.
He remembers wide green eyes in the corridor.
He remembers watching.
He remembers hoping.
He remembers just the way he tastes, like butterbeer and honey and something unidentifiable that is sweet and addictive that he knows he will never be tired of. He remembers the softness, and he remembers the little sigh the boy made as he withdrew from an unplanned kiss and the look of hope shining in a pair of impossibly green eyes.
He remembers smiles and three little words that haunt him now in death. He blinks, and suddenly he knows.
Harry.
Harry Potter.
He remembers stolen kisses in darkened corridors. He remembers busy hands and passionate moments. He remembers wiping away salty tears and he remembers whispering soothing words to a boy he knows he loves so much.
He remembers shyly presently the boy with a small black orchid for Christmas, pressing it into the palm of his hand and saying that there was something about the flower that reminded him... He remembers the bright smile and the crushing hug and the whispered thanks.
Finally, he remembers his death. Brilliant green light and a pair of teary green eyes and a scream and eternal silence.
He feels tired now. Weary and lost and lonely and haunted by the green eyes of a pretty child who he suddenly misses so much he can feel the empty pain left behind.
He would cry bitterly if he could.
And as he stands in the silence, wondering what is to become of him now that he is here and so desperately alone, he glances up at a blank sky and silently prays that Harry knew.
Knew how he felt. Knew how he was loved. Knew how precious he was to him then, now, and into forever.
He shivers and desperately hopes so.
Curling in on himself, Cedric allows himself to melt away into his memories and regrets, hoping one day he will once again see a pair brilliant green eyes and a stunning smile, but until that day, he will be content with past visions and echoes of laugher and tears.
--
ìHey, Harry...î Harry
paused and turned, looking up at Cedric with curious green eyes and a
small smile. ìYes?î ìI love you.î
Cedric reached out and pulled the teen back into his arms, embracing
him tightly and pressing a kiss to the famous scar that adorned his
forehead. Harry laughed, his green eyes shining, and wrapped his arms
around him in return. ìI know.î