This is a Harry Potter song-fic / drabble thing that just wouldn't leave me alone until I did it.
Not necessarily slash. Though I suppose you could read that into it if you want.
I don't own anything within this thing that is Harry Potter related. That right belongs to the lovely J.K. Rowling.
The song is No Bravery by James Blunt. I don't own that either.
I don't own a lot of things.
Like a life.
Enjoy?
~Kris
No Bravery
There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
Tears drying on their face.
He has been here.
They stood there, starring, at the destruction that surrounded them.
Tiny bodies littered the floor, the few left alive, sitting silently among them.
They went around to those few and picked them up, drying their faces as they walked.
The children were quiet as if they knew what was coming.
Orphans, again, with no place to go.
Brothers lie in shallow graves.
Fathers lost without a trace.
A nation blind to their disgrace,
Since he's been here.
The stench of torture was overpowering as they fought their way deeper into the dungeons.
The shallowly dug pits and freshly moved dirt outside told them they were probably too late.
The eyes that met them were dull, lifeless.
There would be no headlines crying for retribution for these souls.
The families of these muggles would never know why.
And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.
He opened the door to see the familiar sight of messy raven black hair.
The boy looked up and onyx met emerald green.
Tear filled emerald green eyes.
He wrapped the boy in his arms and offered him what little comfort that he could.
But would it be enough?
Houses burnt beyond repair.
The smell of death is in the air.
A woman weeping in despair says,
He has been here.
The fire could be seen for miles away.
The rickety old house that had once been filled with love, was now completely engulfed.
She lay in the yard unable to move, to cry, as the last of her home and family went up in flame.
She wanted to cry out for them but they wouldn't have heard her.
They were in there... leaving her behind.
Tracer lighting up the sky,
It's another families, turn to die.
A child afraid to even cry out says,
He has been here.
The mark contrasted harshly against the calm nighttime sky.
Three bodies lay on the ground.
The mother. The father. The baby sister.
The red eyed man laughed as he turned his wand on the boy.
A flash of green was the last thing those dark brown eyes witnessed before the life drained out of them.
And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.
He waited by the apparition point for what must have been hours.
There was a loud crack and startled emerald green met onyx.
Tired, weary, onyx eyes.
He wrapped his arms around the man's waist and together they slowly made their way to the infirmary.
Would this never end?
There are children standing here,
Arms outstretched into the sky,
But no one asks the question why,
He has been here.
The toddler stood in his crib screaming and crying, emerald eyes full of tears.
The man didn't have to ask why, he knew.
He sat there, holding her body in his arms, shaking.
She was gone and the only piece left of her was crying himself into exhaustion.
Too late to protect her. Too late to save her. He was too late.
Old men kneel and accept their fate.
Wives and daughters cut and raped.
A generation drenched in hate.
Yes, he has been here.
The old man, spent from the battle, struggled to catch his breath.
It was his time, he knew this, but his blue eyes were sad as he looked at those around him.
These were the all the children he had failed, had ignored, had helped to make them what they are.
People who could torture, could rape, could hate with such a passion.
The one he failed the most, raised his wand and the old man's eyes closed forever.
And I see no bravery,
No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.
Aside from the ringing in his ears, all was silent.
He had finally done it, had finally killed the being responsible for so much death.
But what was he now, if not a murderer himself?
The onyx eyes that met his held a mix of emotions. Relief. Pain. But mostly sadness.
It was over, but where did that leave them?