Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
The Tapestry
Looking at the now empty glass, I wait in silence. I should be screaming, sobbing in anger and terrible grief. Everything I am, everything I was, is different now. The mirror across the room reflects a person I don't know. She has long red hair that hasn't been brushed in a week. Her eyes are empty and black, a reflection from the nonexistent spirit inside. There are lines around her eyes and mouth. The once red lips are now dark, almost the same colour as her bruises. Her face is thin and pale, in deep contrast with the eyes that used to be bright. Every so often, a shudder runs through her body, a result from the glass she finally decided to drink.
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Darkness reigns as the two sides face each other. On the left, pain is evident on those blank faces. Hope has long since deserted these few left. Their eyes are tired, but determined. On the right, greedy eyes sweep over everything in the knowledge that they are not far from their goal. Sneering mouths and triumphant looks cover the faces of many. And then it begins.
The sounds of despair echo throughout the field. The end of the battle is near. A young woman with long dark red hair screams in anger, throwing an unforgivable at figure in black. As the figure collapses, a smirk of triumph crosses her face before a spell from behind hits. She falls, unable to move. All she can do is watch.
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I'm not certain how long the liquid will take to run its course. All I can do is wait and remember. I feel so alone, betrayed. In those muggle movies Father is so fond of watching, war is a glorious thing, full of victory and sweet triumph. Heroes are discovered and villains are defeated. I laugh bitterly. It couldn't be more different. War is long. Slowly, it wastes away the soul. You become someone new, someone you don't know or understand. This new person is hard and unforgiving. This person can commit horrors without blinking. This person cannot cry, for their reservoir has been depleted long ago.
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The small group of survivors approaches a tall form with unnatural pale skin and eyes the colour of drying blood. In disbelief, she watches as one man with black hair and emerald eyes crosses the distance between the sides in a few quick steps. With an order from the pale tall creature, the man with the lightning bolt scar, the man whom she had desperately fallen in love with, turned to face those who had followed him and silently disposed of those few left. Their bodies fell, eyes wide open with betrayal. Within minutes, the battlefield was empty save for those of the dead and one small shape standing alone. As one last tear fell from despairing eyes, she turned on the spot and disappeared.
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The shudders came more and more frequently. I relaxed my body, letting the tremors pass through without a fight. I suspected I had little more than a minute. Isn't it funny how you can dream of a bright future, filled with simple happiness and hope, only after a few moments with the one you so dearly love? Isn't it a wonder how fast those dreams can be torn apart?
Something wet streams down my cheek. How strange, I had forgotten what it felt like to cry. I haven't been able to cry in years; not since the last of my family died. The sensations of touch are leaving me. The numbness spreads through my body. I find that my breathing has slowed. I cannot hear my heartbeat anymore. Now it truly seems as if my heart has disappeared, both literally and figuratively.
Above me, a tapestry hangs. It is an interesting piece of art, created with random swirls and lines. The colours are all dark, except for one patch of light in the far corner. It seems to move as you watch. It looks as though something is reaching from the dark, straining towards the light. But it is evident to me, with my last breath, that it will never make it.
I was feeling sad, so I decided to write this story to pour out my feelings. I hope you like it!! R and R!!!!