I will always love you
A Snarry drabble.
Snarryislife
Magic is something special,
Something meant to be cherished,
Something that is meant to be loved,
Protected, and revered.
Harry was always a small child. But that is what happens when one lives in a cupboard for the majority of one's life, starved, beaten, and raped. Alone in a cruel world. Punished for something meant to be a gift, a precious gift meant to be cherished.
Knowledge is Power,
Power is Money,
Money makes the world go around,
Be rich.
Harry always came across as a dumb and hopeless child. But that is what happens when one is punished every time they show a spark of intelligence. Alone in a cruel world. Punished for a power that was meant to be cherished and loved.
It was as Sirius Black fell through the veil that our Hero finally broke. A 15-year-old boy with much, too much, responsibility resting on his thin, battered, and scared shoulders, had finally discovered the catalyst that shattered the frail glass that was his self. A part of our Hero's soul tore from our Hero and followed the grey-eyed man through the veil.
Harry lay in a puddle of blood and other bodily fluids, not caring. It had been a month since he had broken. How easy would it be too end the pain and sorrow, to forget feeling? Oh, how he wished he could.
But the world would not allow our Hero that luxury. They stood him up and placed him in cracked armor, believing that he would save them all. All but the man that protected from the shadows. The man that wept inside for our broken hero. The man our Hero wanted to love, but knew not how.
So our hero played his part until he could take no more. So he stood, after much deliberation and research, across the battlefield from the Dark Lord, armed with nothing more than a magical, rusted knife.
It is said, that there is a spell,
A spell that can banish any evil,
No matter what the evil has in place to keep them on this earth,
It requires one willing to end their life,
To give their own magic,
To give up on the world,
To be broken,
But willing to give it one last shot.
So our Hero merely stared as the Dark Lord waved his wand and laughed. "Where is you wand, boy?" the evil man taunted. The leader of the light tried to toss our Hero his wand, the Elder wand, but our hero tried not to catch it. And our Hero raised the dagger, looking the Dark Lord in his blood red eyes. And our Hero plunged the knife into his own chest, closing his eyes, a smile on his face as the Dark Lord let out a hideous, tortured scream. And then our Hero heard no more, felt no more, breathed no more. No pain, no sorrow, no regret.
And when our Hero awoke, he was finally cherished, finally protected, finally loved.
But on the Battlefield, where our Hero's body lay, across the ground from the Dark Lord's ashes, a tall, dark man with midnight greasy hair, knelt next to our hero's body, gently brushing hair away from our Hero's forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to our Hero's lips.
"I always loved you, cherished you, protected you. I wish I had had the strength to tell you." The man whispered. Tears dripped from his eyes. "Your happy now though, I want that for you. Please wait for me, I won't be long. I want you to know though…"
"…I will always love you…"
Our Hero walked around, all his scars gone. Gone with the pain, the hurt, the sorrow. He was no longer broken. But he was missing something, something special. A voice like chocolate called his name. Our Hero looked up into the eyes of the one who had always protected him from the shadows. And both smiled.
"…I will always love you…"