A/N: Sorry for the long-time-no-type. Italics denote his thoughts. Enjoy:
Happy Birthday
The sun was rising. Ironic really. The day dawned upon the battlefield, showing the world the brave warriors of Light. True, the Light side had won. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was there somewhere, counting the number of fallen warriors, probably blaming himself, and grieving. He wondered how many they had lost, and how many Death Eaters were remaining.
He was tired, very, very, very tired. He had achieved what he had wanted. Bellatrix Lestrange lay dead, some feet away, blood gushing out like fountains from her midsection. Harry was probably glad for that. But then, he wasn't exactly in the pink of health was he? Oh no. Deep gashes covered his face, hands, and every part visible to the eye. And being thrown for about 6 feet and hitting the wall wasn't helping his ribcage or his spine. He was surprised. I'm being sarcastic?
It had been a bloody war, there was no doubt about that. His mind again wandered to the number of casualties on their side. It wandered to many other things too, like Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna... he wondered if she was alive. He felt ruthless, or rather indifferent, thinking about the dead. He knew he would be joining them shortly. Strange feeling, really. Knowing you would die shortly.
And then, he saw her. She's not dead after all. Her diamond eyes were half-closed (or half-open, depending upon how he wanted to see it). And yet, they caught the pleasantly warm rays of the sun, and sparkled. They still held life, and he was glad. He inched closer to her, the rough soil scratching his skin. She was sitting up, staring at the rising sun. She still looks dreamy. A soft smile came upon his lips, and he realized, that he loved her. Not the deep, passionate, Romeo-Juliet sort of a love. No. It was a calm sort of love. It brought peace to his body, mind, and soul. It was the filling sort of love.
He reached her, every muscle protesting this movement. He laid his head on her lap, panting. She knew without even turning round. She lifted a cold hand and stroked his face. It's ironic, that a cold hand is reassuring me so much. She was staring at the sun still, washing her face with its warmth. She had been hit with a curse which slowly drained one's life force. And he knew this. Just like she knew he was going to die too.
If they hadn't been so heavily scarred, and lying among the dead, it would've been romantic. "I love you." He rasped, now more at peace that he had told her. "I know." She turned. Her smile told him thet everying was alright, it's going to be okay. She didn't have to tell him that she loved him too. He understood, and she understood that he did.
"It's your birthday today." He nodded. He had realized once he had seen the sun. Strange, to be leaving the world on the day you came into it. "Happy birthday." Her voice was so soft, so musical, so melodious, so soothing. He smiled, and closed his eyes. She took in his still-boyish face, which looked so content. She turned once more to look at the sun, and then back, to look at his face. She smiled too. She put her head and hands on his shoulders. And then, she slept too.
Well, that's done...I like it.Had been in my mind for quite a while. Titanic is the inspiration for this one. Read and review if you like it. And even if you don't.
koolgirl1993