Let
your arms enfold us
Through the dark of night
Will your angels
hold us
Till we see the light
Hush, lay down your troubled
mind
The day has vanished and left us behind
And the wind,
whispering soft lullabies
Will soothe, so close your weary eyes
Let your arms enfold us
Through the dark of night
Will
your angels hold us
Till we see the light
Sleep, angels
will watch over you
And soon beautiful dreams will come true
Can
you feel spirits embracing your soul
So dream while secrets of
darkness unfold
XXX
She stood at the window, a white statue against the grey, blank room. Her hair was twists of auburn thread, lighter than clouds, floating on the breeze from the open pane; her hands, barely there but gripping the sill so strongly, you'd think she'll never let go, as blue is to ocean, kind is to those hands. Thin, pale and yet beautiful beyond measure, her face is slowly saturated with glittering tears, running from her enchanting, jade eyes, like to precious gems, half-hidden by heavy lids. A soft hand rises up, silently, yet jerkily, as if it has not moved in a long time; it sweeps through the hair like autumn leaves, as bold as brass, still gleaming, mocking the sadness and grief. The hand falls down, deadened, as if it was too weak to continue.
Tears dripped off her chin, creating tiny, tiny puddles on the windowsill. She turned towards the bed, a large four-poster, with rich red drapes, and, tenderly clasping the ten-and-a-quarter inch willow wand, returned to her post.
She rolled the wand over in her finger tips, touching each crook of the wood, an almost invisible smile sneaking up, catching her off-guard, walks onto her face. A thought began, twirling like smoke, wafting like heat, moving like flowers, growing like love. It stopped, in her mind, at a door, which is locked, shut tight and bolted. Not a problem. No, something cried out in anguish, no, don't. The thought winded its way around the cogs in the lock, around the mechanism and slowly, the door swung open. Suddenly, memories, oh many, many memories, flooded out like a river, like the great Amazon, as strong as a herd of wildebeest, yet as gentle as a moth; happiness filled her up, overflowing, like a cup of water, like a waterfall, fluid, constantly moving. Then sadness, overwhelming, swooping down like a huge eagle, blocking the light, slashing the bonds of joy with enormous talons of fury, hate, despair. And pain, harsh, cruel, angry, vicious pain.
Suddenly, a hand touches her waist and she jolts upright. A voice was whispering in her ear comforts unknown, truths she never understood, and lies. Well no, not lies, the deceitful kind, but the ones that you don't know are lies, the ones you know as truths, only to be ripped apart by something you could never comprehend. Arms slipped around her, holding her close, caressing her shoulders with strong, thick hands; lips kissed her neck carefully, softly. She held one of those hands and wished for the hurt to go, for it to leave. But she was leaving, going tomorrow, forever, never to return. Why couldn't she stay? This was her home now, not the house back in the old world, but here, this place where she belonged, where she was loved, wanted, and not tormented, forgotten, ignored or insulted. She needed this place, and the people here. The ones who picked her up when she fell, defended her when others were callous, the ones who were her friends…the ones she loved. Her family was here, not there…
The wind rustled the leaves on the huge willow tree, and the moon shone brightly, not quite full. The towers of the castle seemed so far away, so tall and unemotional; but what she would miss the most was the feeling in the air as you walked the corridors, that feeling of magic in the air, like mist or dust, like a curtain that floated over the whole place, as invisible as air, yet as obvious as a tree in the desert. The feel of owl feathers, like cashmere sheets in the sky, or the secrets, more and more each day to be found, like doors waiting to be opened, or draws left locked for years, like books that haven't been read, or a baby waiting to be born.
Again, a thought began, twirling like smoke, wafting like heat, moving like flowers, growing like love. It became a thought of hope, once banished by fear, now built up by it. She turned to her friend and whispered
"Can I come home with you?"
He nodded slowly, like a flag waving in the wind.
"Only if you marry me."
Her heart flew from her chest, erupting fear, passion, hate, anger, and love, chucking lumps of the congealed mixture at him. She threw herself at him inwardly, holding him in her spiritual arms, while remaining calm, relaxed composed on the outside. She tilted her head sideways, grasping the moment for as long as possible, clutching at every detail, cramming it all in her mind as she uttered the words which changed history.
"I will."
AN. Song is 'Prayer' by Secret Garden, listen to it while reading this and I think you'll see my view. I bet you can't guess who it is…
This is how I always pictured her, I guess, when she is leaving Hogwarts. It's her last night, as you can see and I really wanted to show her as a jumble of feelings, hatred of leaving, love of Hogwarts, anguish at maybe never seeing her friends again, want for James to stay with her, or to stay with James and anger at being made to leave where she felt she belonged.
Do you see them? Please read and review, I'd love to know what you think!
froga10t