Hi-hi! My very first fanfic! Please be gentle? Well, anyway, I've been through hell, and as a matter of fact, I rent a dorm down there, so a flame or two wouldn't matter. It serves as my guide to writing, those constructive flames and review. (along with Popsicles and chocolate, oh, and caffeine....um,hehe, sorry, these are my obsessions!)
Disclaimer: Harry along with the others belongs to the kawaii J.K. Rowling.
It was cold. So cold.
Harry Potter sat there, a limp body in his arms, not wanting, not daring to believe that his beloved was gone...gone forever...
It was cold. So cold.
He stared at her eyes, eyes which not so long ago held warmth and love for him, and for him alone. Eyes full of tears as farewell escaped her lips. He traced his hands over lips from which came forth sweet nothings and steadfast love for him. He almost smiled, as he remembered how she yielded to him as passion, love and lust enveloped them together. It wasn't so long ago, was it? It didn't matter to Harry. Time didn't matter. All that matters is her love. Her love, gone with her life. He held nothing, just a body, a body without life...or mind...or soul.
It was cold. So cold.
Unfair. It was all so unfair. How could one just take a life from another, with a small flick of a wand? How? Harry didn't cry or scream. No, his grief was too great, too big for tears or shrieks. All these because of Voldemort. Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort....what was in that name that provoked fear within people? Just letters combined together...He wanted power. He killed for power. That much trouble just for fucking power. And, when she died to save him from the killing curse, it rebounded to Voldemort. His cruel laughter turned to an agonized screech as once again, Harry defeated him. Voldemort was forever gone. But his lover was also forever gone. Gone. gone...gone....gonegonegonegone....funny how you can think of only one word when the one you so dearly loved had just died for you. Harry didn't laugh. Nor would he for ten more years or so.
It was cold. So cold.
Ron and Hermione. His two very best friends. They too were snuffed out of the world without justice. Ron was worse than dead. There were dementors surrounding both Ron and her, and she bade Ron to escape. After an argument, Ron was forced to flee when Hermione threatened infidelity on him. As Ron watched from a high cave, he saw Hermione looking at him and she mouthed her very last words "I love you, Ron." She smiled, and after one moment, she was just...nothing. When the dementors left, he retrieved her body, and, knowing that his Hermione could not think, or love, or even remember him, stabbed her with a knife he had stolen from a muggle. He stared at his hands, dripping with blood he had shed from her. The image of his lover lying in his arms, a knife jutting from her chest, and his hands, hands drenched with blood, her blood, hers....he screamed, and he never stopped screaming. Ron now has his home in St. Mungo's Hospital, still screaming his horrible scream... a scream that haunted Harry in nightmares.
It was cold. So cold.
Harry stood at her grave which held his beloved. How could it have happened? Why did it happen? If only....what? what could he have done for her? He was alone, all alone without her love. As he turned away, tears streaming silently past his cheeks, hi whispered into the wind, "Cho..."
Um....Ah, hey! Don't blame me! I wasn't in my right mind when I wrote it! Hehehehe! Please r&r, so my petty efforts won't be wasted. Let me know when you want another fic, okei? Okei! Ja ne!
----'---,--{@
Disclaimer: Harry along with the others belongs to the kawaii J.K. Rowling.
It was cold. So cold.
Harry Potter sat there, a limp body in his arms, not wanting, not daring to believe that his beloved was gone...gone forever...
It was cold. So cold.
He stared at her eyes, eyes which not so long ago held warmth and love for him, and for him alone. Eyes full of tears as farewell escaped her lips. He traced his hands over lips from which came forth sweet nothings and steadfast love for him. He almost smiled, as he remembered how she yielded to him as passion, love and lust enveloped them together. It wasn't so long ago, was it? It didn't matter to Harry. Time didn't matter. All that matters is her love. Her love, gone with her life. He held nothing, just a body, a body without life...or mind...or soul.
It was cold. So cold.
Unfair. It was all so unfair. How could one just take a life from another, with a small flick of a wand? How? Harry didn't cry or scream. No, his grief was too great, too big for tears or shrieks. All these because of Voldemort. Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort....what was in that name that provoked fear within people? Just letters combined together...He wanted power. He killed for power. That much trouble just for fucking power. And, when she died to save him from the killing curse, it rebounded to Voldemort. His cruel laughter turned to an agonized screech as once again, Harry defeated him. Voldemort was forever gone. But his lover was also forever gone. Gone. gone...gone....gonegonegonegone....funny how you can think of only one word when the one you so dearly loved had just died for you. Harry didn't laugh. Nor would he for ten more years or so.
It was cold. So cold.
Ron and Hermione. His two very best friends. They too were snuffed out of the world without justice. Ron was worse than dead. There were dementors surrounding both Ron and her, and she bade Ron to escape. After an argument, Ron was forced to flee when Hermione threatened infidelity on him. As Ron watched from a high cave, he saw Hermione looking at him and she mouthed her very last words "I love you, Ron." She smiled, and after one moment, she was just...nothing. When the dementors left, he retrieved her body, and, knowing that his Hermione could not think, or love, or even remember him, stabbed her with a knife he had stolen from a muggle. He stared at his hands, dripping with blood he had shed from her. The image of his lover lying in his arms, a knife jutting from her chest, and his hands, hands drenched with blood, her blood, hers....he screamed, and he never stopped screaming. Ron now has his home in St. Mungo's Hospital, still screaming his horrible scream... a scream that haunted Harry in nightmares.
It was cold. So cold.
Harry stood at her grave which held his beloved. How could it have happened? Why did it happen? If only....what? what could he have done for her? He was alone, all alone without her love. As he turned away, tears streaming silently past his cheeks, hi whispered into the wind, "Cho..."
Um....Ah, hey! Don't blame me! I wasn't in my right mind when I wrote it! Hehehehe! Please r&r, so my petty efforts won't be wasted. Let me know when you want another fic, okei? Okei! Ja ne!
----'---,--{@
