I do not own Harry Potter.
This started out as an experiment. I wanted to see if I would write something with a bit more detail than I usually put in my stories. It ends up. I REALLY like it. I hope you all do too. and if you do.. TELL ME! I love reviews! When I don't want to write I read them and they encourage me.
Prologue
A young man of no more than twenty sat silently in the corner of a darkened room. He was a fairly attractive, if a bit forlorn, looking man. His sandy brown hair was gathered back in a ponytail that fell just below his shoulder blades. His softly angled features were only barely clinging to the last vestiges of youth. His unblemished face was drawn into a well- practiced frown, as his soft blue-green eyes took in the room with unveiled apathy.
The man lifted his nearly empty drink to his lips, filling the room with the quiet sound of ice against glass. He drained the last of the amber liquid from its container and stood. He abandoned his armchair and crossed the room, negotiating the abundance of obstacles set before him with only a thin steak of moonlight to light his path. He placed the glass tumbler in the sink, moving his hand to the wall at his side and flipping the small switch found there.
The room was not quite flooded in the light that the single bulb produced, and the man turned to face the single room apartment. His blank face never faltered as he surveyed the disaster that lay out before him. The apartment looked as though it had been thoroughly ransacked. Books littered the ground, as did the shelves that had once held them. The coffee table was up ended and half hidden beneath the mattress, which had escaped its bed. The man snatched up a couch cushion from the floor next to the sink and set about righting the room.
Once the couch, bed, and coffee table were back in place, and the books and shelves had been restored to their wall, he turned his attention toward the closet and the mound of clothes lying in front of it. As he loaded the last of the, now full, hangers onto the rod a loud squeak echoed through the room. The man looked down to see short brown arms sticking out from either side of his boot. He drew back his foot to reveal a small teddy bear, which issued another squeak as the pressure against it was released. He knelt down and picked up the stuffed toy, letting the first bit of emotion slip through his mask. He smiled and squeezed the bear's stomach again. Tears built up in his eyes, and his smile slowly faded. Curling his arm around the small toy, he rose to his feet and dropped onto the bed in the center of the room. He lay there motionless for hours before finally crying himself to sleep.
This started out as an experiment. I wanted to see if I would write something with a bit more detail than I usually put in my stories. It ends up. I REALLY like it. I hope you all do too. and if you do.. TELL ME! I love reviews! When I don't want to write I read them and they encourage me.
Prologue
A young man of no more than twenty sat silently in the corner of a darkened room. He was a fairly attractive, if a bit forlorn, looking man. His sandy brown hair was gathered back in a ponytail that fell just below his shoulder blades. His softly angled features were only barely clinging to the last vestiges of youth. His unblemished face was drawn into a well- practiced frown, as his soft blue-green eyes took in the room with unveiled apathy.
The man lifted his nearly empty drink to his lips, filling the room with the quiet sound of ice against glass. He drained the last of the amber liquid from its container and stood. He abandoned his armchair and crossed the room, negotiating the abundance of obstacles set before him with only a thin steak of moonlight to light his path. He placed the glass tumbler in the sink, moving his hand to the wall at his side and flipping the small switch found there.
The room was not quite flooded in the light that the single bulb produced, and the man turned to face the single room apartment. His blank face never faltered as he surveyed the disaster that lay out before him. The apartment looked as though it had been thoroughly ransacked. Books littered the ground, as did the shelves that had once held them. The coffee table was up ended and half hidden beneath the mattress, which had escaped its bed. The man snatched up a couch cushion from the floor next to the sink and set about righting the room.
Once the couch, bed, and coffee table were back in place, and the books and shelves had been restored to their wall, he turned his attention toward the closet and the mound of clothes lying in front of it. As he loaded the last of the, now full, hangers onto the rod a loud squeak echoed through the room. The man looked down to see short brown arms sticking out from either side of his boot. He drew back his foot to reveal a small teddy bear, which issued another squeak as the pressure against it was released. He knelt down and picked up the stuffed toy, letting the first bit of emotion slip through his mask. He smiled and squeezed the bear's stomach again. Tears built up in his eyes, and his smile slowly faded. Curling his arm around the small toy, he rose to his feet and dropped onto the bed in the center of the room. He lay there motionless for hours before finally crying himself to sleep.