Light - 30
She was good incarnate—
Sunny smiles,
Shining hair,
Painfully optimistic.
The perfect student;
The perfect Prefect;
The perfect Head Girl;
The perfect Order member;
The perfect Potter.
It killed him.
Dark - 29
Because he was nothing bright—
Nothing beautiful.
He was the greasy, slimy,
Creature of the dungeons.
And the mark on his arm
Denounced him
Beyond anything Potter could say.
Stubborn - 28
He sometimes wondered
Whether things might have been different.
That day in the grounds—
It haunted him.
A painful reminder of all their faults—
Of all his faults.
Quitting You - 30
Some days he'd decide he was done.
Done caring.
Done mourning.
But several bottles of Odgen's later
There he'd be,
Shattered glass on the floor,
Drunken tears glinting in firelight.
Finish This - 30
And now his task was complete.
Voldemort would fall.
How fitting that he should fall as well.
He combated the flicker of fear
With the warmth of her smile.
Finished.
