A/N: I would really appreciate comments on this one, as I'm not
sure if it really makes sense to anyone but me. Unfortunately, I couldn't help
but write it, as the plot bunny wouldn't let go of my damn ANKLE! Vicious
little bugger. Anyway, on to the fic...
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~the petals~
Dishevelled hair falling into eyes he doesn't dare to look into...
Seeker-toned body prowling incessantly through his subconscious...
~the stem~
An eleven-year-old staring into the eyes of the Dark Lord...
A fourteen-year-old refusing to bow, defiance unchanged...
Senseless, Gryffindor bravery: screaming stupidity into the face of your
captor...
~the buds~
"Harry, mate, you're the best friend a guy could have..."
"Harry! Of course I'm your friend, you saved me from a troll..."
"For Harry's a jolly good fellow! One more time..."
~the thorns~
"Malfoy! I'm walking here! If you're blind, wear the dark glasses
so I don't have to look at your ugly face!"
"Here....ferret, ferret, ferret..."
"How's your father finding Azkaban, Malfoy? You know, I hear they have
excellent guest quarters, in case you wanted to visit..."
Light and Dark, Heroes and Villains, Alive and Dead. Contrast is inevitable,
even necessary.
Dead Flowers.