Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or lingo. Sadly, the talented J.K. Rowling does. I am not making money from this story as it is purely fan fiction so don't even think of suing me. I have a friend named Joe and he breaks kneecaps for a living –wink-
Don't You Feel Alive?
By Sperm Pantied
She doesn't belong here in this pent up school with its thick, stone walls and empty corridors. She doesn't belong here, where her red hair seems too extreme and her brown eyes seem trapped. She doesn't belong here where her feet are restrained in polished black shoes and running isn't allowed.
Her red hair is like the flames of burning leaves on an autumn afternoon. Her eyes are like the mud on your body after dancing in the rain. Her feet are rough and calloused from running barefoot through the forest. Her pale skin looks like moonlight reflecting on the snow. She's wild and I can feel it. I can see it in her eyes that she longs to be set free.
I remember when I first noticed it. The first snow came down heavy on Christmas day and I remember her seeing it through the windows of the library. We were the only ones there. Not even Granger was there. She looked up and saw the big and heavy flakes flying serenely to the ground and her face changed. It was like a candle being lit in front of your face after being in the dark for a week's time.
She left her books on the table and ran straight outside. She sat down on the step and took off her polished shoes and her one-size-too-big socks and ran barefoot through the snow. I ran after her because she was sure to get frostbite. She had no socks, no shoes, no cloak and she ran through the grounds as if it was sunset on Summer Solstice.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I yelled to her, shivering at the top of the steps. She turned and I saw that her curly red hair was no longer in a tight braid, but was now hanging freely. It looked vivid against her pale skin and the snow.
"Take your shoes off!" she yelled, her cheeks rosy from the biting air.
"You're nutters, Weaselette!" I called back. She threw her head back and for the first time in the 5 years I knew of her, she laughed. It rang over to me and I couldn't help but smile. I don't know what came over me but soon I was barefoot, running towards her. The snow was so cold that it felt hot and searing.
She flicked out her tongue and grabbed a snowflake that had rested on the top of her nose. "Don't you feel alive?" she asked me, eyes sparkling with an excitement I never knew existed.
'Don't you feel alive,' rang through my head for the thousandth time.
I rub my eyes and look back at her. After that she went back to her normal self: quiet, timid, alone. No, I cannot say she is lonely for she isn't. She doesn't yearn for friends or someone to talk to. She's just constantly by herself. Not that I mind at all for it is easier for me to sneak her things.
See, whenever she looks so caged in I give her little notes. They usually say, "Remember the snow," or "Don't you feel alive?" I finger the necklace in my robe pocket. I bought it for her. It made me think of her when I saw it in the jewelry shop of Hogsmeade. I don't know why I bought it... we never talked and we were supposedly enemies, but obviously that didn't stop me.
Looking at her now, I see the longing for the wind in her hair, the dirt under her fingernails, the rain on her skin, and the snow under her bare feet. Not even my notes make her smile anymore.
She's looking for a book, a book that I have in my lap. Smiling inwardly, I slip the necklace into the book and walk over to her.
"Are you looking for this book?" I ask her.
She looks at me, mocha eyes wide in surprise. "Yes. Thank you," she says quietly to me. I nod and gather my stuff. I walk to the door but stop just on the threshold and look back.
She gasps, as she pulls out a white gold necklace with a snowflake pendent. Engraved on the back it says, "To my snow angel. Always, D.M."
Smiling with accomplishment I stride back to the dungeons. Back to the chill that constantly reminds me of our day in the snow.
'Don't you feel alive?'
A/N: I got the idea from the poem "I'm Not From Here" by Jewel Kilcher. I suggest you read it because it is great. Read and review, as I am quite a review whore. Ta ta!