Disclaimer: Everything from HP books belongs to JK Rowling
Darkness
You sit by the common room window. The rain is beating melodically against the glass and you watch the storm raging outside with hopelessness in your heart. You're cheeks turn red and your eyes glaze with anger and you think about them, your best friend and girlfriend. Betrayal, you think, you were betrayed in thought, in action, in those stares that pass between them each day as you tightly hold her hand and kiss her cheek. How long will she let this go on, you think. How long will she act in this charade of loving you?
Angry tears roll down your cheeks as you remember the way he took her hand earlier today. You see the gentle motions of his thumb across her hand, the sparkle in his eyes. He loves her. You know that. You see it in very glance, in every touch, in every way he tries to make sure to be with her. But you love her too; have loved her for so long that you can hardly remember feeling anything else, anything less. She's been yours forever and you don't know what you will do when the inevitable happened, when she's gone.
You watched her fall in love with him, watched her indifference turn into ardor, watched her meekness turn into strength. She fell for him, fell hard, fell fast, in a way you could never imagine because you never fell in love. Your love for her just happened gradually, comfortably. You don't remember tripping or stumbling or misplacing a step. All you remember is being, is knowing.
You close your eyes and see her as painful tears leak out of your eyes. Her auburn hair flows down her shoulders and her eyes are glistening with that innocence that attracted you initially. Her pale skin is glowing and she holds a flower in her hand as she sits by the big oak tree, your oak tree. You hear her angelic laughter and see her beautiful smile and the need for protectiveness washes over you until you momentarily forget her infidelity. She seems so delicate in your mind, in person as well, and no one person can not feel obligated to watch over her. Her delicacy and innocence is so wonderful in your mind and as you picture her right now, playing with the flowers and thinking up nonsense in her head, you know that no one can be better than her. She's what perfection is made of; to you at least.
But than an image comes into your mind and you see him caress her cheek and watch him lean down to kiss her lips, watch her not pull away. Suddenly the tears disappear and your eyes glow with anger. You scream with everything you have and pick up a vase sitting on the table right by you. You throw it at the mirror above the fireplace and both shatter into little pieces.Then, you look into the shattered mirror seeing a monster looking back at you, seeing yourself.
For you this is what is left of your life. She was everything. She saved you when you needed her most and made you a better person through her affection. You were blind over the years though. The picture of the girl with the even temper picking wild flowers and laughing innocently is not the real her. It's part of her but you lost the big picture that he seemed to get, and despite the knowledge of all the flaws you deemed worthy enough to ignore, he loved her anyway. And she fell for him, because he got to know her in a way you never have, never could.
You watch yourself breathing heavily in the mirror and do nothing to conceal the darkness of your being. There's no point for you to hide your darkness anymore. She had made you want to change, to embrace as much goodness as possible, and although you aren't evil, far from it actually, there is so much darkness inside of you just aching to get out. And as you released it tonight you never felt anything as wonderful, as freeing.
You take out your wallet and remove the picture of her you took last year. You stare at for a bit, your eyes glazed and heart beating rapidly. With the rest of your unreleased anger you rip her picture in two and toss it into the fire, smiling as you watched her headshot burn in the flames. Suddenly, you frown and feel remorseful, hating yourself because you let your inner beast take over, because if she saw you just now she would hate you, too.
You shake your head and sit on the couch just staring idly into the flames. You need to forget her, you think. She no longer loves you and the dream of your childhood must end. But you can't forget her. You can't forget her gentle touch, her soft lips. It's the hardest thing to do, you think, to move on. Once you have had a taste of perfection it's impossible to forget it.
End (L/R) remus is the narrator
Like it? Hate it?
Review! Review! Review!