"It was you who first believed"
In all that I was made to be
It was you looking in my eyes
You held my hand
And showed me life
And I've never been the same
Since you first believed"- 'You First Believed' by Hoku
*
People always say that apple pie is warm, and delicious, the epitome of sweetness. Given to one on a golden, scarlet embossed plate. Fit for the Gods. But, what if, perchance you ate apple pie every single day?
Wouldn't that devalue it?
I remember, not so long ago a time when innocent reigned and the guilty paid. And then I met Him. And then I learned that sometimes being sweet wasn't all it's cracked up to be-and sometimes making the guilty pay is pointless. Because sometimes the guilty, are really the best people just disguised as the one's who do crimes and live on the 'wild side.'
"Arrogance," he told me fiddling with a slice of cold apple pie, made by his Mum, "-is a gift. It is, Ginny-doll, given from the Gods. When was Odysseus humble? Think about it."
I thought, I've always thought. He taught me so much, but mostly about the world. He told me about the world and I listened. But I got confused sometimes.
"Dray, what do you mean they won't like me?" I asked him, my milk chocolate coloured eyes peered at him intensely and my gingersnap hair fell into my face.
He looked at me and sighed. Putting a nonchalant arm around me he said, "They want you for what you can do for them."
I remember burying my self into his shoulder and saying, "Dray!"
Then he patted my head in a paternal way and then said, "Aw, Ginny, I didn't mean to make you cry-"
He was cynical no doubt, but then again I got together with him when I was just fourteen. I was still so young, and he taught me about the world and I taught him about life, as I knew it.
"Dray-" I distinctively remember telling him, "-do you think your Daddy will ever love you?"
He shrugged and said, "I doubt it, but that's okay, I don't need that bloody hypocrite anyway."
Then I told him: "Yes, you do-"
"No," he said, "I don't."
It was funny, well, not exactly funny but close enough. I don't really remember our relationship all that much. I remember talking to him, and I remember our conversations a lot. But little about the relationship itself.
I remember thinking I loved him, and thinking that I would give my world for him. I remember he gave me my first sip of whiskey, I was just fifteen.
"Here, try this," he thrust the small shot glass into my face.
I looked at it. And blinked.
"Dray, but that's-" I paused distorting my face into a grotesque look "- that's alcohol!"
He snorted, "Mmhmm."
"Is it good then?"
He rolled his shiny blue eyes, "It's decent tasting."
I took the glass to my lips and took a small, slight sip. "Umm."
"What'd you think? Father gives it to me whenever I go to the Manor."
"It's okay, Dray, I think I need to sit down now-"
He laughed.
I wasn't vulnerable then, surprisingly I was very strong at that point in my life.
He was stronger though, he always had to beat me, you know.
Competitive little dolt!
And then he had to go die on me then, I know it wasn't his fault but it seemed as so. It was the final battle with Voldemort.
He denied the dark mark, which is essentially denying Voldemort. His Father turned him in, and Voldemort tortured him. I saw him; he told me he'd come back. I remember it like it was yesterday. He was just nineteen.
"Gin," he told me, "I'll be right back. Lock the door. Got it?" He gave me one last peck on the cheek and slammed the door of our flat behind him.
I heard this screeching noise, this ugly yell a clamor for weapons and then the voice faded slightly.
Then, I opened the door and ran outside to the forest just beyond our quaint flat.
I didn't see anyone, I just saw Him. He was lying on his back, his eyes had black circles around them and a small line of blood protruded from his cracked lips. His face had big gashes in it, and his arms were slashed terribly.
I saw him and instantly bent to his side.
"Dray-" I cried "-wake up. Look at me! I can't go on without you, you have to wake up and tell me you love me, and-"
His blank eyes stared at me and slowly he began to talk, "Ginny-doll, it's okay. I'm all right. Don't fret. Don't get your knickers in a twist," he took a deep breath and I could tell it pained him.
I looked at him, and his torn up black velvet robes and his green and silver tie all askew.
"You aren't dying on me, I won't have it."
"I love you," he told me leaning up slightly to give me a kiss on my temple. It left a slight blood mark on my temple from his bloody lips.
"More than?" I choked out, cradling his head in my arms.
"More than apple pie," he told me. Then he drifted off into everlasting peace.
And then I was one.
*
In all that I was made to be
It was you looking in my eyes
You held my hand
And showed me life
And I've never been the same
Since you first believed"- 'You First Believed' by Hoku
*
People always say that apple pie is warm, and delicious, the epitome of sweetness. Given to one on a golden, scarlet embossed plate. Fit for the Gods. But, what if, perchance you ate apple pie every single day?
Wouldn't that devalue it?
I remember, not so long ago a time when innocent reigned and the guilty paid. And then I met Him. And then I learned that sometimes being sweet wasn't all it's cracked up to be-and sometimes making the guilty pay is pointless. Because sometimes the guilty, are really the best people just disguised as the one's who do crimes and live on the 'wild side.'
"Arrogance," he told me fiddling with a slice of cold apple pie, made by his Mum, "-is a gift. It is, Ginny-doll, given from the Gods. When was Odysseus humble? Think about it."
I thought, I've always thought. He taught me so much, but mostly about the world. He told me about the world and I listened. But I got confused sometimes.
"Dray, what do you mean they won't like me?" I asked him, my milk chocolate coloured eyes peered at him intensely and my gingersnap hair fell into my face.
He looked at me and sighed. Putting a nonchalant arm around me he said, "They want you for what you can do for them."
I remember burying my self into his shoulder and saying, "Dray!"
Then he patted my head in a paternal way and then said, "Aw, Ginny, I didn't mean to make you cry-"
He was cynical no doubt, but then again I got together with him when I was just fourteen. I was still so young, and he taught me about the world and I taught him about life, as I knew it.
"Dray-" I distinctively remember telling him, "-do you think your Daddy will ever love you?"
He shrugged and said, "I doubt it, but that's okay, I don't need that bloody hypocrite anyway."
Then I told him: "Yes, you do-"
"No," he said, "I don't."
It was funny, well, not exactly funny but close enough. I don't really remember our relationship all that much. I remember talking to him, and I remember our conversations a lot. But little about the relationship itself.
I remember thinking I loved him, and thinking that I would give my world for him. I remember he gave me my first sip of whiskey, I was just fifteen.
"Here, try this," he thrust the small shot glass into my face.
I looked at it. And blinked.
"Dray, but that's-" I paused distorting my face into a grotesque look "- that's alcohol!"
He snorted, "Mmhmm."
"Is it good then?"
He rolled his shiny blue eyes, "It's decent tasting."
I took the glass to my lips and took a small, slight sip. "Umm."
"What'd you think? Father gives it to me whenever I go to the Manor."
"It's okay, Dray, I think I need to sit down now-"
He laughed.
I wasn't vulnerable then, surprisingly I was very strong at that point in my life.
He was stronger though, he always had to beat me, you know.
Competitive little dolt!
And then he had to go die on me then, I know it wasn't his fault but it seemed as so. It was the final battle with Voldemort.
He denied the dark mark, which is essentially denying Voldemort. His Father turned him in, and Voldemort tortured him. I saw him; he told me he'd come back. I remember it like it was yesterday. He was just nineteen.
"Gin," he told me, "I'll be right back. Lock the door. Got it?" He gave me one last peck on the cheek and slammed the door of our flat behind him.
I heard this screeching noise, this ugly yell a clamor for weapons and then the voice faded slightly.
Then, I opened the door and ran outside to the forest just beyond our quaint flat.
I didn't see anyone, I just saw Him. He was lying on his back, his eyes had black circles around them and a small line of blood protruded from his cracked lips. His face had big gashes in it, and his arms were slashed terribly.
I saw him and instantly bent to his side.
"Dray-" I cried "-wake up. Look at me! I can't go on without you, you have to wake up and tell me you love me, and-"
His blank eyes stared at me and slowly he began to talk, "Ginny-doll, it's okay. I'm all right. Don't fret. Don't get your knickers in a twist," he took a deep breath and I could tell it pained him.
I looked at him, and his torn up black velvet robes and his green and silver tie all askew.
"You aren't dying on me, I won't have it."
"I love you," he told me leaning up slightly to give me a kiss on my temple. It left a slight blood mark on my temple from his bloody lips.
"More than?" I choked out, cradling his head in my arms.
"More than apple pie," he told me. Then he drifted off into everlasting peace.
And then I was one.
*