I've gone off writing things before stories. NYITW is likely to never be completed. Sorry, I just don't do L/Js any more. Anything but. Please R&R.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or his glorious friends and foes. In fact, sometimes I think they own me. They've turned me into a hopeless romantic.
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He cast his eyes desperately towards her, struggling through the dark chasm that was his soul to gaze at the light of the one thing in his life that had remained a constant. His emotions towards her had not changed since they had become friends seven years ago- nor had hers.
Sadly, the two feelings were completely different. His was a dark, dangerous, often obsessive passion and love and hers- well it was nothing more than an intimate friendship. It did not matter anymore anyway. Not much mattered anymore/
He fixed her eyes on her, drinking in her happiness and beauty as she ran about, dark hair spreading behind her in a wide arc. Her lips were bright red from the cold, her cornflower blue eyes sparkling with delight.
She fell, and he imagined catching her as she sank into the snow. She laughed, and it echoed all around him, making him smile. Yet his happiness was tainted; fat tears of despair rolled down his cheeks and his body wracked with sobs.
A hand reached out to pull her up. A masculine hand, one he knew all to well. The force of the young man's pull brought the two bodies very close, and he could only watch as their lips inched closer together.
He winced as the brother who had become his enemy kissed his only love, slowly and gently. They fell back into the snow, still attached at the mouth and he turned his head to gaze out across the rest of the Hogwarts grounds.
The view from the Astronomy tower in winter was usually breathtaking, yet all he felt was hurt. The snow capped trees; glassy lake and pastel mountains caught his attention, yet brought him only pain. His failure this morning, and now this. It was too much.
Yet he couldn't help but reckon with himself. This was not a failure. The woman of his dreams stayed alive and happy, in love with his alter ego, his twin.
And she was all that mattered.
It did not matter that he had sold his life for her, to the Dark Lord. It did not matter that he now bore the Dark Mark on his left arm. It did not matter that he had been asked to murder this woman.
Because he would do anything for her. Her life was the most precious thing in existence, and he would gladly guard it with his.
'Angelina', he murmured her name into the wind as it blew past him. His last word.
It is often said that all you need is love. He now knew better. Love alone cannot replace food, or drink. One cannot survive on only love. Love alone cannot hold the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Love cannot even heal the soul.
Unrequited, unreciprocated love was worth nothing. You gave, and gave and gave your happiness, throwing it to the other, until all that was left of you was a core. A saddened vessel.
He knew, oh yes, Fred knew that he had made a mistake, falling for his best friend. Yet love is a dangerous tool, and he had openly and willingly accepted it. He could not turn back.
No time-turner or other device- magical or muggle- can undo the most powerful force of nature. Even if he had wanted to release himself of its grasp, the feat was impossible.
Fred stared into the distance, feeling no emotion.
He was desperately searching, trying to find just one feeling to cling to.
There was none. Blind love had left him empty. Rejection and his own betrayal had killed his soul.
There was nothing left to do but end the pointless survival of his vacant body.
No deep breath was taken, no steeling himself was performed. He simply reached out his arms to embrace the world.
And fell.
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Love you guys- please review.
Xoxoxo
Bree