Having reread this due to reviews I have slightly reworded parts of it so hopefully it will make a little more sense to you. Some of it may never make sense to some people as that is just the style of my writing, I write in a way that 'speaks' to me for lack of a better word. Anyway I completely understand where the confusion came from on rereading and hope that it all makes sense now!!
A story of a love a love so magnificent!!! ADMM. I wrote this on whim as I don't believe her story was completed. Post DH. Not sure what I make of it myself yet but it was one of those things that had to be written down.
Reviews always greatly appreciated.
xx Obviously none of these wonderful people belong to me. The all belong to JK and her lovely bank balance. xx
She stands, silent, strong, foreboding. Her body seems almost encased in stone, a goddess surveying the ravaged landscape of her wrath.
Minerva - Goddess Of War.
The thought enters the threshold of his mind, barely acknowledged before the soft lullaby of a sob reaches his attentive ears. A silver tear tracks the length of stone, carving a niche in the hollow rock, it's solitude an adequate ode to the strength of the woman before him. A single drop with the force of a river threatening the walls she has built so solidly around her.
He approaches on silent feet. His every sense aware that with each passing moment she may turn and flee. An unnerving silence encompasses them both, she had been magnificent he knew. He knew all along he realises now, even without the acknowledgement of all around him. Always held in shadow, always coming second, she is the star regularly outshone but always constant. Her choice, no lack of power or skill to hold her back, always her choice. The clarity of truth reverberates for a second around the cobwebs of his mind. Affection, sorrow and love crash together in a wondrous kaleidoscope of emotions. He chokes, feeling the onset of tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He was the saviour, he had defeated Voldemort and yet he had taken seven long years to realise exactly who his professor was. Too late now he realises what she was, who she was, what she meant. Too late he realises she has fallen to her knees, a grace of movement belying the fact that it was a fall at all.
He runs now, his feet so battle worn in previous moments fly swiftly over the ground, yet he seems no closer to reaching his quarry. His fall is less than graceful, arms outstretching, fingers grasping he knows now that there is only one purpose as he holds her upright eyes searching for wounds that he knows are not there. She had been magnificent. Green meet green alike, one asking a question, the other giving the only answer they could. She grips him tightly to her nodding in silent acknowledgement. He understands. Tears spill forth from his eyes as his body wracks in silent sobs, sobs for her, sobs for him, a tidal wave of tears for the many they had lost.
He chances a last glance as he walks away. Onwards to celebrations, yet with each heavy tread that is forced by his mind his heart aches a little more. She lays now, even near death composed, strong, stubborn. He imagines he hears the strains of her breathing, her rapid heart beat fighting the very orders sent by its own treacherous centre. He imagines he sees a light as the last breath leaves her battle weary chest. A light come to guide her to the place she always belonged to be. He blinks the image away, salty drops continuing to blur his vision as he leaves her to claim the love that was always hers. He knows now that he did not imagine that. A love, a power so magnificent that even death dare not dictate its departure. He turns once more, startled as a two phoenix feathers float slowly to his feet. He smiles.