A/N: For the OTP Freeverse comp. Some of the prompts are inferred. It sounds crazy, but that was from me trying to use all 30 prompts. :) I did it though. *passes out*. Funny; it half focuses on Ron and Hermione's relationship (I have a few favourites so this is a different OTP to the other one) and half on the events of the seventh book. They go hand in hand though.
Enjoy and tell me what you think.
The Otter and the Weasel Dance
Streams of light shoot through the darkened sky
Of night – the Northern star gleams upon the canvas
Of black and blue and shining back
Upon the silver sea.
The boat waited upon rocky shores;
A glossy sheen of grey
Gleaming with darkness' light amidst misty cloud –
Little trails of hope that coiled around a walking staff.
An otter of hope, a weasel with courage partook
Who scurries deep into his burrowed beach in flight
Before worming, agonising, towards the fleeing peak –
His attempt to salvage the shells sweeping to sea.
Poor little red weeds that drifted with the tide;
He attempted to catch them with a fleece net
But they fled, little green pebbles of envy
Seizing their place as the castle moved a square ahead.
Centre-stage, he tries again,
Banishing the failures of his past.
He struggles on, towards the pot of Leprechauns' gold
At the base of the rainbow falls.
The silver sliver slices through the downpour;
The present brightens as the flowers of happiness bloom
And blossom with life as bloodied ink seeps out
From thoughts of angst and souls of dead despair.
A smile on his face, he shivers on,
Passing by more trials
For his heart now knows the path to take
And the sound of the Devil's music sung.
The screwed up mask of terror is cast aside
Upon the middle ground
Before a tremor knocks it aside – He watches the tide
Catch and carry the debris far from sight.
The otter sees the net;
It flounders within its grasp,
Twisting and flailing about in restrained anger,
Fighting…with prison walls cast aside.
The dawn rose, the new day came
With roses blooming, fierce and bright.
The otter came ever closer, the snake fled
At sword-point, wrought with gold.
The future arrived on morrow's low tide
Carrying the ends of war –
Their battle ended as foe became friend
And nameless faces took upon arms.
The chill grew – darkness threatened –
But tastes of brown and touches of white
Banished despairing foes
To their sweetened bitter end.
Salty treks fell upon lights that merged;
A monster overthrown without remorse…
They celebrated: a defeat, a union astride;
A saddened party with a single smile.