Disclaimer: I don´t own any of these characters (Darn!). They are all the
product of Joanne K. Rowling, the greatest writer of our time, this story
can be considered as a wanna-be-tribute to her and the world she has
created.
I am not making any money with this, I´m writing this only for fun.
Rating: Some chapters PG-13, some below that
Writer: Shadey-Poo
Warnings: This is SLASH. Meaning that this contains guy-guy relationships. If you don´t like them, you can push that lovely little "back" button in the upper left corner of your screen :p
AN 1: Ok, so this is my first slash fic ever, so it might (and propably will) be a little stiffy.. And pardon me for my possible bad spelling, grammatical mistakes etc. thingies. My mothertongue´s Finnish so there can be quite a lot of them :p
Notes: // equals thoughts, OR when used the second time in this prologue, flashback.
Everlasting Love (My GOD that´s corny...)
The prologue
Smoke swirls up from the little fire I have managed to produce. Its gentle dance forms shapes in the air, like shadows they are. I try to warm my hands, but the fire is too beady. Suddenly a tiny crack comes from the darkening gloom of the forest behind me. I spring up, turn around and aim my wand at the direction of the sound, the words Avada kedavra already forming on my lips. //"A hare. Oh thank God it´s just another animal."// I think, adrenaline still flowing in my veins. The hare, looking a bit startled, watches me stupidly before runs away whirling snow. I start laughing. A shrill and slightly hystericall cackle escapes my lips, dripping snow from the branches above, as I think the absurdity of the situation. Ron Weasley, here in the middle of the forest, freezing and scared to death, trying to kill innocent little animals.
The laughter ceases as if cut by knife when I remember the reason to my fear. They´re after me, His followers and minions. Reality washes over me as I finally realise the hopelesness of the situation. I am propably the last survivor of our army against Him. Everyone are dead, Mum, Dad, Dumbledore, Lupin..
//"Run, Ron! Run, while you still can! And take him out of here, I´ll try to hold them back..."//
..Hermione, Hagrid..
..Harry. I burst into hysterical tears, as rapidly I had begun to laugh. "Oh Harry, I loved you!" I shout to the cold night. "This isn´t the way it was supposed to go, I would have died for you if you had let me! You were my everything, without you I am nothing! Do you here me? NOTHING!"
I fall to the ground, the world swaying in and out of sight, my tears mingling with the melting snow on my cheeks.
Through my sobs of grief I can´t hear the soft footfalls behind me and when a tiny hand touches my shoulder I barely notice it. Because in my thoughts I´m in Harrys bed, holding him, drowning him to kisses and repeating his name over and over again.
Someone says in a hesitating voice: "Mister? Mister, are you allright?"
The voice sounds like sputter, as if it´d be coming behind a wall of mist.
Then another voice, with much more confidence says: "Laurie, you ninny, of course he´s not! He looks ill, we better carry him home or he´ll die in a weather like this."
I feel hands grabbing me, but they seem distant, not important. There is only Harry. Harry and his touch on my skin, his scent and warmth around me and...
Finally blackness covers me and I black out, exhausted from my journey, dehydrated and starving.
I wake up in a small house of somesort, blazing sunlight peering behind the drawn curtains and hitting my face. My first thought is that I must be late from class because the sun is so high up. Then I remember and hope I wouldn´t have woken up at all.
"Why, good morning mister! Had a good sleep?"
"Where am I? Who are you?" I mumble, trying to shake the weariness off.
"You´re somewhere safe and my name is Edward, that should be enough for starters. The breakfast´s ready by the way if you care to join my wife and I. After that we can share stories."
I rise from the pile of hay which works for a spare bed, and see a tiny table infront of a small, rather sooty fireplace. There´s bread and juice on the table. I grab them ruthlessly, not remembering when I have eaten last time.
Edward sits down to the table with me and stares in awe as I stuff the little crumbs of bread ,which are still left from my purge on the table, into my already full mouth and gulp down the remainders of the juice.
"Geez, you must´ve been starving". He ponders aloud and I nod in agreement
The door slams open, white snow suddenly filling the air and a frail, young woman comes to the cottage, cheeks red and her hair in a funny-looking mess, she kicks the door and it shuts with a loud creak. Then she waves her wand towards the fireplace and soon a bright fire crackels there.
//"Good, there not muggles."// I let out a sigh of relief.
"Ah, you´re up! How splendid, how splendid indeed." She says "I hope Eddie gave you some food, you look starved young man! And take look at your robes, all dirty and ragged.. What on earth have you been through?" She cooes to me.
I take a quick look at myself in the mirror and to my horror, notice that I´m spindling, the skin of my face is covered in scars and bruises. Theres some dried blood on my left temple.
"Yes that´s something I´d like to know too." Edward says. "And I think you owe it to us, if Spock (he waves his hand vaguely towards the corner where I thought were only rags but now a shaggy, huge Alsatian raises it ears from among them when hearing his name) wouldn´t have gone missing, you´d have frozen to death."
//"Oh heck, might as well tell them the story. Though they propably already know it in broad outline. Yes, I have to get this burden out of me, before I can go and finish this..."//
Then a strange thought slips into my mind, a memory of a film Harry once told me. It was Mary Shelleys Frankenstein, and it begins with an almost similar situation where I am in now. Though I´m not the one who´s chasing the monster, the monsters are chasing me...
"It is a long story." I say. "A long story of such kind that you might find some parts hard to believe. It is a story of our loss in the war against Voldemort (they don´t flinch when hearing the name), a story of sacrifice, and most important, a story of love, my love for Harry Potter. If you´re willing to hear it, I will tell. But on one condition, this story will stay inside this cottage. You will not repeat to anyone, not even to your one children. Understood?" I ask them.
They nod. And I begin speaking.
"It all began many, many years ago, when I still had no fear of the sun and its revealing light, when I was still innocent and joyfull. It was summer then, the summer after my fifth year in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Rating: Some chapters PG-13, some below that
Writer: Shadey-Poo
Warnings: This is SLASH. Meaning that this contains guy-guy relationships. If you don´t like them, you can push that lovely little "back" button in the upper left corner of your screen :p
AN 1: Ok, so this is my first slash fic ever, so it might (and propably will) be a little stiffy.. And pardon me for my possible bad spelling, grammatical mistakes etc. thingies. My mothertongue´s Finnish so there can be quite a lot of them :p
Notes: // equals thoughts, OR when used the second time in this prologue, flashback.
Everlasting Love (My GOD that´s corny...)
The prologue
Smoke swirls up from the little fire I have managed to produce. Its gentle dance forms shapes in the air, like shadows they are. I try to warm my hands, but the fire is too beady. Suddenly a tiny crack comes from the darkening gloom of the forest behind me. I spring up, turn around and aim my wand at the direction of the sound, the words Avada kedavra already forming on my lips. //"A hare. Oh thank God it´s just another animal."// I think, adrenaline still flowing in my veins. The hare, looking a bit startled, watches me stupidly before runs away whirling snow. I start laughing. A shrill and slightly hystericall cackle escapes my lips, dripping snow from the branches above, as I think the absurdity of the situation. Ron Weasley, here in the middle of the forest, freezing and scared to death, trying to kill innocent little animals.
The laughter ceases as if cut by knife when I remember the reason to my fear. They´re after me, His followers and minions. Reality washes over me as I finally realise the hopelesness of the situation. I am propably the last survivor of our army against Him. Everyone are dead, Mum, Dad, Dumbledore, Lupin..
//"Run, Ron! Run, while you still can! And take him out of here, I´ll try to hold them back..."//
..Hermione, Hagrid..
..Harry. I burst into hysterical tears, as rapidly I had begun to laugh. "Oh Harry, I loved you!" I shout to the cold night. "This isn´t the way it was supposed to go, I would have died for you if you had let me! You were my everything, without you I am nothing! Do you here me? NOTHING!"
I fall to the ground, the world swaying in and out of sight, my tears mingling with the melting snow on my cheeks.
Through my sobs of grief I can´t hear the soft footfalls behind me and when a tiny hand touches my shoulder I barely notice it. Because in my thoughts I´m in Harrys bed, holding him, drowning him to kisses and repeating his name over and over again.
Someone says in a hesitating voice: "Mister? Mister, are you allright?"
The voice sounds like sputter, as if it´d be coming behind a wall of mist.
Then another voice, with much more confidence says: "Laurie, you ninny, of course he´s not! He looks ill, we better carry him home or he´ll die in a weather like this."
I feel hands grabbing me, but they seem distant, not important. There is only Harry. Harry and his touch on my skin, his scent and warmth around me and...
Finally blackness covers me and I black out, exhausted from my journey, dehydrated and starving.
I wake up in a small house of somesort, blazing sunlight peering behind the drawn curtains and hitting my face. My first thought is that I must be late from class because the sun is so high up. Then I remember and hope I wouldn´t have woken up at all.
"Why, good morning mister! Had a good sleep?"
"Where am I? Who are you?" I mumble, trying to shake the weariness off.
"You´re somewhere safe and my name is Edward, that should be enough for starters. The breakfast´s ready by the way if you care to join my wife and I. After that we can share stories."
I rise from the pile of hay which works for a spare bed, and see a tiny table infront of a small, rather sooty fireplace. There´s bread and juice on the table. I grab them ruthlessly, not remembering when I have eaten last time.
Edward sits down to the table with me and stares in awe as I stuff the little crumbs of bread ,which are still left from my purge on the table, into my already full mouth and gulp down the remainders of the juice.
"Geez, you must´ve been starving". He ponders aloud and I nod in agreement
The door slams open, white snow suddenly filling the air and a frail, young woman comes to the cottage, cheeks red and her hair in a funny-looking mess, she kicks the door and it shuts with a loud creak. Then she waves her wand towards the fireplace and soon a bright fire crackels there.
//"Good, there not muggles."// I let out a sigh of relief.
"Ah, you´re up! How splendid, how splendid indeed." She says "I hope Eddie gave you some food, you look starved young man! And take look at your robes, all dirty and ragged.. What on earth have you been through?" She cooes to me.
I take a quick look at myself in the mirror and to my horror, notice that I´m spindling, the skin of my face is covered in scars and bruises. Theres some dried blood on my left temple.
"Yes that´s something I´d like to know too." Edward says. "And I think you owe it to us, if Spock (he waves his hand vaguely towards the corner where I thought were only rags but now a shaggy, huge Alsatian raises it ears from among them when hearing his name) wouldn´t have gone missing, you´d have frozen to death."
//"Oh heck, might as well tell them the story. Though they propably already know it in broad outline. Yes, I have to get this burden out of me, before I can go and finish this..."//
Then a strange thought slips into my mind, a memory of a film Harry once told me. It was Mary Shelleys Frankenstein, and it begins with an almost similar situation where I am in now. Though I´m not the one who´s chasing the monster, the monsters are chasing me...
"It is a long story." I say. "A long story of such kind that you might find some parts hard to believe. It is a story of our loss in the war against Voldemort (they don´t flinch when hearing the name), a story of sacrifice, and most important, a story of love, my love for Harry Potter. If you´re willing to hear it, I will tell. But on one condition, this story will stay inside this cottage. You will not repeat to anyone, not even to your one children. Understood?" I ask them.
They nod. And I begin speaking.
"It all began many, many years ago, when I still had no fear of the sun and its revealing light, when I was still innocent and joyfull. It was summer then, the summer after my fifth year in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."