Hi guys! This is just a ficlet I wrote. I have a couple of projects that I'm working on right now, and mostly just have to type up my stuff and post. If you're someone who actually follows me (and I worship you if you do) or just decided to care for the hell of it, those projects go as follows; my Five Kisses hartemis project is done, I just need to type and post, a Kyouya Haruhi fic is written and needs to be edited, Fullmetal Thunder hasn't been abandoned, and I have a Bones/Bleach crossover via commission from my beta. I'm kind of opening the floodgates for commissions now, and the details will be on my author's page.
But you probably don't care, because I'm new to the Harry Potter fanfic scene. Oh well, maybe someone will read this and care.
Don't own anything. Just a drabblet.
Waiting By The Door
Sometimes, he would pretend.
He would pretend they were eight again, hiding from Lily's wretched sister Petunia, making the tree's leaves dance like spiraling birds. That they were eleven, sitting on the Hogwarts Express and reveling in the fact that they were finally going to learn magic, yet to be Sorted into their respective Houses. He dreamed of the time they had spent together at school, as just friends, protecting each other's backs. The worst was when he would remember that day, where he called her that awful name and she stormed out of his life forever with her hair glowing like the fire of her temper. Al he'd had to do was reach out his hand, to tell her he was sorry and that he didn't mean it, that he had never meant it. But simply remembering wouldn't change anything, and every time he opened his eyes, the world was still the same. Cruel. Dark. Friendless.
It all could have been different.
Some days, sitting alone in his house filled with many kinds of shadows, he would just sit there and listen. He dreamed that one of these days, he would hear a knock on the door, and would open it to find Lily standing, alone, there. Then, he could tell her how very, truly sorry he was. But one of these days never came, and he was left sitting with painful memories, dust, shadows, the ghosts of the dead, and a glass of evaporating whiskey in his hand.
Waiting for a chance to change that would never come.
I don't often write drabblets, so this was kind of wierd. Review if it was vageuly interesting. :)