Goodbye By DS
Rating: G
Length: just one chapter
Warning: This is slash. Very, very mild slash. In fact if you wanted to, it could be anyone saying it. but the speaker is Harry. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Goodbye. No word has so many different meanings in two syllables. It stimulates a rush of imagery and emotion, some images cherished and others despised. It is a world of angst and sometimes hope. Goodbye is a stupid word.
I remember when we laid in the sun by the lake. You didn't open your eyes to find my hand with questing fingertips, almost like you could sense exactly where I was. We spoke in slow, soft murmurs, our heads close enough to touch. We would look up into the arching vault of the sky and dare the night to swoop in and end our time together.
If places kept memories for themselves, the grassy patch behind the broom shed would be a lucky place indeed. That ancient, gnarled tree would have laughed at us if it could have, observing our antics. You would steal my scarf just so I would chase you down to get it back. I'd throw an arm around your shoulders; mock-fighting you to get back something I didn't really want anyway. Or you'd tickle me and wrap strong arms around my waist whenever I tried to wriggle away. I guess that's why I always tried to get away. We'd both end up flushed and laughing at our efforts, and sprawl out on the grass together to pass the time for an hour or three. I would want the memories of that place above all others, because they held no sorrow, just simple unadulterated joy. Life was a soap bubble of pure wonder, dancing in a wayward breeze to float up and be lost among the clouds.
I would choose to return to that time, if I could. The shore is cold and gray when last I visited. Winter frosts the waves with a cruel malice, and the endless sky is shrouded in fog. Tears are worthless now, sobs wont bring back anything. Or anyone. The day you left, your eyes were two silver mirrors, reflecting everything I felt. We broke each other to shards with hammering words and misunderstandings. I never wanted to hurt you. You were my everything, my muse, my inspiration and guide. You were something I couldn't begin to understand, a bright flare of intelligence and personality lighting my universe from the outside looking in. I wanted you inside my universe. I opened the small sphere of my consciousness and expected you to do the same. I loved you and in my blind, naïve youth anticipated that you would surrender yourself to me like I had to you. But sometimes you trust someone more than they do you. What you see isn't always what you get, and your dazzling persona had flooded my vision with glaring, deceptive fractals of color.
I shouldn't have been surprised when you drew away and hid in your introspective shell. I shouldn't have cried. I should have known. But there are no flamboyant adjectives that could describe exactly how I felt as I watched your retreating figure stalking into the distance. You explained that your family would never approve, that it was just an empty dream, but the words buzzed and squealed in my ears. Goodbye was all I could hear; goodbye was all I could sense. I became a walking cliché, stumbling through my daily routine like a broken music box grinds its way through a fumbled melody. Goodbye was an echo in my skull, a riot in my brain, a sneer on my lips. I miss you, Draco, more than ever. Goodbye is a stupid word.
Rating: G
Length: just one chapter
Warning: This is slash. Very, very mild slash. In fact if you wanted to, it could be anyone saying it. but the speaker is Harry. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Goodbye. No word has so many different meanings in two syllables. It stimulates a rush of imagery and emotion, some images cherished and others despised. It is a world of angst and sometimes hope. Goodbye is a stupid word.
I remember when we laid in the sun by the lake. You didn't open your eyes to find my hand with questing fingertips, almost like you could sense exactly where I was. We spoke in slow, soft murmurs, our heads close enough to touch. We would look up into the arching vault of the sky and dare the night to swoop in and end our time together.
If places kept memories for themselves, the grassy patch behind the broom shed would be a lucky place indeed. That ancient, gnarled tree would have laughed at us if it could have, observing our antics. You would steal my scarf just so I would chase you down to get it back. I'd throw an arm around your shoulders; mock-fighting you to get back something I didn't really want anyway. Or you'd tickle me and wrap strong arms around my waist whenever I tried to wriggle away. I guess that's why I always tried to get away. We'd both end up flushed and laughing at our efforts, and sprawl out on the grass together to pass the time for an hour or three. I would want the memories of that place above all others, because they held no sorrow, just simple unadulterated joy. Life was a soap bubble of pure wonder, dancing in a wayward breeze to float up and be lost among the clouds.
I would choose to return to that time, if I could. The shore is cold and gray when last I visited. Winter frosts the waves with a cruel malice, and the endless sky is shrouded in fog. Tears are worthless now, sobs wont bring back anything. Or anyone. The day you left, your eyes were two silver mirrors, reflecting everything I felt. We broke each other to shards with hammering words and misunderstandings. I never wanted to hurt you. You were my everything, my muse, my inspiration and guide. You were something I couldn't begin to understand, a bright flare of intelligence and personality lighting my universe from the outside looking in. I wanted you inside my universe. I opened the small sphere of my consciousness and expected you to do the same. I loved you and in my blind, naïve youth anticipated that you would surrender yourself to me like I had to you. But sometimes you trust someone more than they do you. What you see isn't always what you get, and your dazzling persona had flooded my vision with glaring, deceptive fractals of color.
I shouldn't have been surprised when you drew away and hid in your introspective shell. I shouldn't have cried. I should have known. But there are no flamboyant adjectives that could describe exactly how I felt as I watched your retreating figure stalking into the distance. You explained that your family would never approve, that it was just an empty dream, but the words buzzed and squealed in my ears. Goodbye was all I could hear; goodbye was all I could sense. I became a walking cliché, stumbling through my daily routine like a broken music box grinds its way through a fumbled melody. Goodbye was an echo in my skull, a riot in my brain, a sneer on my lips. I miss you, Draco, more than ever. Goodbye is a stupid word.