A/N: I don't own Harry Potter
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Assignment #10 Demonology Task #10: Devil's Traps. Well, these are pesky things, aren't they? Imagine a circle that you're just stuck inside, like an animal at the zoo. We've set up an obstacle course, and you'll be required to find your way past these without getting caught in one. Even bigger hint, they can't be escaped from, so just wait for someone to break the trap and let you out. Unless you're Dave. Dave insisted he can find a way out. We're fifty years on and he's still stuck. Don't be Dave.
Prompt: Trait: Stubborn. Alt: Write about someone being trapped.
Word Count: 446
Warning: canon character death
Words. That's all it was, words. Words that he couldn't say, that he wouldn't say.
That was the only thing standing between them, words.
He loved her, but he'd never tell her, never show her,
he couldn't.
This was war, this was insanity and they were caught in the middle.
Opposite sides, at least so it seemed,
how could he tell her now?
Would she even believe him if he uttered the truth?
She might. She was smart, she was logical,
if nothing else, she'd see something in his words,
some truth to matters he sure she questioned.
Words. Words were heavy on his mind,
heavy in his heart,
around and around they went,
whispering for him to tell her,
to commit those words to parchment,
to write them in the sky,
anything to get them out of his own head.
Maybe then they wouldn't haunt his every
waking moment,
maybe then they wouldn't fill his nights with
dreams of her.
Love! He couldn't love her,
love wasn't something he deserved,
not after everything that he'd done.
No, he'd had love once,
thought he'd had love once,
only to have his heart shattered
into blackened shards when his
advances were used against him,
when his advances had almost
led to his own demise.
Words, they grew like
poisoned plants in his thoughts,
in heart,
slowly creeping through his
bloodstream until he wanted
to scream. Words, words to
tell her how he felt,
how everything had changed,
how he'd changed.
Words confessing the truth
behind his actions, behind his
horrible treatment of her, of everyone.
Words could never be enough,
but he knew, if those words were to find
themselves written in ink,
find their way to her hand,
it would lead to questions,
more words, actions suddenly
growing, actions taken upon seeing
her face once again.
The words could never be spoken,
the actions could never happen,
he knew that, in his heart of hearts,
that he couldn't, he wouldn't
ever allow her to know the truth.
He loved her,
his thoughts were of her,
thoughts he shielded so strongly
he came across as cold,
as stern, as uncaring
Words.
Words he whispered as
his mask slipped away
words he mouthed, wondering
if she could read his lips.
Words of truth, of love,
dripping from him as
the blood poured from his
neck, one last breath,
her name, the softest word,
on his dying lips.
Her name, only her name,
as she cried holding him,
confessing the same words,
knowing he'd never hear her now
never return them, never love her
as the battle raged on around them,
taking their hidden love
as yet another casualty.