Author's note : For those who hate "melodrama", don't even try fei Normal fei 2 4 2001-11-11T22:58:00Z 2001-11-11T22:58:00Z 3 847 4829 40 9 5930 9.2720

Author's note : For those who hate "melodrama", don't even try. And now, see, I have given you a lot of hints in this chapter …

And I got a flame ! Ok, so here we have STAR GURL (who can't even spell her own name but I'll just let go of it for this time) who's got a prodigy of a six years old sister. Would you mind if we asked you to show us some of her stories ? It would be really amazing to see what good a six years old can write (if she can write). Oh, and if you had looked more closely, there actually are these little signs, you know, just below my pen-name and above the text, that tell people who is thinking. And I actually will –gasp- make this story clearer as it unfolds … or are you too thick to understand what's been going on till now ? If that's the case, well, good luck, girl, and go ask your little sister for some explanations …

Disclaimer : I own nothing. Well, really what did you expect ?

Laughter

By Heir of Darkness

Ron ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You.

I hate you.

How did you dare come back. How did you dare come back after what you did. Why, why did you have to do that to us, not only what's done and already past, but to open the wound again by trying to heal it ? Are you even trying to heal it ? Oh, I remember. I remember well enough. The ghastly glassy look in her eyes, blindly staring into eternity forevermore, her half-open mouth, still warm with her last breath, from which flowed the thinnest thread of crimson blood, and her body, lifeless, and her hair, spread on the stone ground looking like a loose curtain, … and, you …

You, kneeling there, in your robes of black and your cloak of dark red. You, tearless, firm, standing up, shaking and yet motionless, glasses askew and wand in hand, your eyes empty and hollow and dark, lips parted, looking away from what you had done, then meeting my burning stare half way up, turning away again, your eyes dry, dry, you resting your head on the wall, sighing that breath I would have loved to extinguish, and from this moment on, I have hated you.

I have hated you more than I could think was ever possible. I hated you even more than I hated her for what she did … to you. Everything came back to you. From you began everything. It was all because of you. And however I phrase it, it all means the same thing. I hate you, Harry Potter. As much as I would have died for you if there was the need to in the early years of our friendship, I would have died to make you suffer, from this second on when I met your eyes and saw Death lurk in them. When I understood that you were the first element which began to tear my life apart, and still the last which held it up. At that moment did I push that last column away.

Slowly I continue my descent from the stairs. You don't move. That is wise. I guess if you had attempted to speak to me at that very moment, I would have hit you. Smashed your fucking face with my fist. Your broom is of the very last model, I notice. As always, isn't it ? And, silently, everyone begins to walk around. The family sits around the table, each in their usual seats, and silently as well, an extra chair is placed here for you. Now is the time when the twins would have been welcome, to ease the atmosphere, or Charlie, always ready for a suitable remark in every situation, but no. No more twins, no more Charlie, never. The coffee is passed around the table. The toasts are there, ready, but no one touches them.

I hold the boiling hot cup to my lips, and watch your hand, stirring the dark brown liquid, and your eyes, with dark bags under them. You have become thinner, if that is ever possible, and interiorly I smile, for in despair and pain we are all equal. But that silence. That silence that meant fear and apprehension. It needs to be broken.

"I have seen a lot of you in the newspapers."

Everyone jumps. With a cling, Ginny's spoon falls onto the floor. She mumbles a low-voiced apology, and quickly bends under the table to hide her furious blush.

"I guess so. I don't read the news."

We eye each other. Much more than a reunion between long lost friends, this looks more like a Duel, a match to Death, when both the opponents try to spot their enemy's weak point to jump on them at the proper time. With long pauses between each joust.

"You don't ? You should. You're an important personality. You should keep up with what people say about you …"

Our friendship is dead, Harry Potter, I don't think you've really understood that point when you came here … I don't believe in resuscitation.

You shrug. Meaning is clear. You don't give a shit.

And I curse that day when we both set foot on Platform 9 ¾ .

The meal is now finished. The cups are all drained, but no one dares to move. The tension weighs so much it keeps us all stuck upon our seats.

Suddenly, Mum stand up, plastering an awkward grin upon her face.

"I see everyone is finished." Loudly, she cleans the table up. Her cheerfulness is so fake it only kills cheerfulness more. "Why don't the kids go out ? They have a lot to tell each other, don't they ?" We're twenty-three, but we're still her kids. Her hands shake and it is almost the end of one of our best porcelain plate. No one looks up, except Dad. And in his eyes are such a look as cannot be mistaken. He wonders if it is safe. Ha, don't worry, Dad. Very safe.

I stand up, pushing my chair back. You look at me with those eyes, those eyes I have learnt to hate and despise and avoid for five years, and today that I face them again, I'm not ready to forget what they had taught me years ago. Never to trust them. I smile. And this is a genuine smile of enjoyment and savouring the moment. I extend my hands to you and Ginny.

"Come on. The woods are waking up. We need to talk, anyways."

Author's note : And then again, review … Sorry I didn't make it longer. No time today.