SWEDISHA/N: So, I watched the HARRY POTTER AND DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 2 finale the 13th of July. I kind of waited for my childhood to die but it didn't, not really. I just think my childhood felt scared – utterly scared. I'm in a hazy denial though. It still feels like Harry Potter fans have, as Harry WOULD'VE said, "something worth living for".
P.S. I'm still awaiting my letter until I'm 90… I blame Errol.
Here it goes, my portrait of a scene from the film timeline and one from the book timeline. A tribute to life and death.
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By:LumosMaximum
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Beauty of Fatality
Bathing in your green. Sunlight and blood. Bathing in poisonous green.
'Take them.'
What he was asking the boy to take was inappropriate. And worse, they were so intimate and private and was the few things, if not the only, that had kept him alive for so long. The boy nodded, understanding that his plead was a serious one and was not late to collect the most precious he had in a small glass vial. How ironic, he thought, that the things that he had done everything to recreate, relive and revive had been fitted into such a small vial. Like his memories were a potion that could lay prettily in a row between its sweet and devious cousins Amorentia and Living Death.
Drained, he felt the world slipping, a grateful feeling after all this time in this half limbo that some dared to call life. He started to get scared along with the sweeping feeling of death although he never wanted to admit that death was a long anticipated friend. His real fear was for was what he was giving way; his most sacred memories.
He concentrated hard and tried to conjure those summer days that still smelled like peaches and grass but it was too late and all he could smell was blood and all he could see was the small vial containing those summer days. He felt even more scared, this time of entering darkness without remembering his constant light.
'Look at me.'
By looking into the boy eyes he could conjure not only summer days but touches, smells, hugs and sounds. He saw leafs charmed into flying like birds and he heard her laugh blissfully while lying in the grass. He remembered her brushing his hand so lightly that it could have been grass or the air but he knew that it was her hand by the warmth and the softness...
The boy gave him the look of someone who didn't grasp. How foolishly beautiful it was. Not understanding what those tears in the vial held or why they were shed, and how deep green her eyes looked behind his dirty glasses. It was inappropriate but he was relieved; he never dared to dream to see those eyes staring so intensely at him ever again. Dying felt worth it and in the end it was all for her.
For Lily.
You have your mother's eyes. He thought, or said, or wished the boy knew. You have your mother's eyes.
He inhaled a last time, trying to hold on to life but he could not care less. Her eyes, green, chocked, were as captivating as everything else with her. He shut his eyes, expecting to enter darkness but instead he was bathing in her green, soft, summer grass green.
Life, slipping, was beautiful.
Leave me out with the waste,
This is not what I do.
It's the wrong kind of place,
to be thinking of you.
'Run, Ron, please.'
Her plead was echoing somewhere fast distant and all he could hear was stone falling hard onto other stones and peoples battle cries. He was shooting red, yellow and blue curses towards every direction with such a fierce determination that he felt he could go on battling forever. The mood was tense, the castle had inhaled but nobody dared to exhale before they were lying cold on the floor, dying for what they believed in.
'Behind you.'
He quickly identified who it was with a chill, the half werewolf and half man was gritting his teeth and ran towards him ready to attack. He struck him with a combination of blue and brown; the words for the green curse resting on his lips, tempted to leave his lips, forbidden to leave his lips.
She ran towards him with spells flying behind her as falling stars; quick, rapidly and like sources of light in the darkness they were in. She grabbed him hard and tugged him away hastily to the left and they fell. Where he stood only seconds before tumbled in and the sound of stone hitting more stone alarmed him. He held her tightly with bloody hands and although it pained him more to hold her as hard as he did he was relieved that their heartbeats were drowning out the sound of screams of pain. He promised her right there and then that if he ever got out alive of this he would marry her and have twenty babies that all looked exactly like her and he would cherish life as much as he could and that he would do so many things and they would all be for her…
He told her that he loved her in between crumbling stone walls and when she returned his words they shared a hasty kiss in a stolen time.
After that they bathed in a consuming green, a deathly, poisonous green.
People fell down but he stood up, hauling her up with him and sheltered her in his arms, bathing in what he thought was death. The castle exhaled for a split second before it filled with screams of agonized Death Eaters clutching their left arms in agony, warriors in chock of being alive and two familiar sounds of two men with one shared destiny being ripped apart in the sound of earsplitting despair.
He didn't know how he knew, but he knew nonetheless, Voldemort was dead. He lived in a free world, they had survived and the good side had perished. What they had fought for had been theirs and what he had fought as intensely for was sobbing in his arms, clutching his chest hard to avoid shaking of chock and happiness. He pressed his lips against her forehead, not kissing her, just feeling her.
Life, beginning, was beautiful.
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A/N: Lyrics: 9 crimes - Damian Rice. Do review.
