Disclaimer: Everything doesn't belong to me, not even the idea. I perceive
in my mind that J K Rowling has planned this herself..
REAL DISCLAIMER: I own and want the idea, not the characters, this place
maybe exists or doesn't. The aforementioned AUTHOR owns the HP world, and
characters therein.
A/N Let the Story BEGIN!!!!!!!!!!!
Regrets of an unrequited love
He stood motionless, his hair ruffled by the wind. The cold stone was damped and it soaked through the flimsy layers of clothes and made his hands clammy. But he didn't care.So, the fight was over, the Dark Lord defeated, fully. Why did he feel that his own life was over? He was always fully on the Light Side. He should be inside celebrating. But he wouldn't, couldn't go. His arms were numb with the icy cold breeze that swept around the Tower. His knees were hurting from being so long in this position. He moved. Now he was perched on the window, his legs dangling as he watched the owls fly to and fro. He leaned more to the edge. Teardrops were stinging his bare cheek. He roughly pushed them aside. No, he didn't want to cry, didn't want to think about that.. So the world is liberated? They had celebrated for weeks, no grief to quench their joy. Why did he feel depressed? She had been taken. She had allowed herself to be taken. He had no chance, he missed her. He would miss her, he always missed her when she wasn't there. He should've realised, he should've said something, done something. Or maybe it was fate? No, he didn't believe in that. Or did he? Was it fate, destiny, an unknown force if you will that allowed a tiny baby survive and conquer the Dark Lord? But that was the stuff legends were about. It had been legendary, the last fight. He replayed it in his mind. Dumbledore wasn't there, he had been in hospital, recovering from a Death Eater attack. They needed to destroy Voldemort that night. He remembered after the fight, he was so panicked about her injuries that he never noticed that her heart had gone out to the unconscious form lying near by. She was in love with someone else. He recalled that one kiss. She'd been confused and stunned. She apologized after. A huge sob racked his body as he turned to his letter
I wish you both the best of luck
No, he couldn't write it, not if she was going to read it. He knew that she would give up her happiness and she was happy. He tore the paper up, it scattered, catching in the wind. It was better if she never knew why. He did wish them the best of luck, he loved them both, that was the problem, otherwise he could be bitter and angry. Now he felt gone. And as he leaned over the ledge, his fingers brushing off the rough stone work. As he prepared to fall only one scene was going through his head. Hermione saying "Harry and I are getting married, Ron."
How tactless.
He fell.
Finir- the French verb to end
REVIEW!!!!!!!!
A/N Let the Story BEGIN!!!!!!!!!!!
Regrets of an unrequited love
He stood motionless, his hair ruffled by the wind. The cold stone was damped and it soaked through the flimsy layers of clothes and made his hands clammy. But he didn't care.So, the fight was over, the Dark Lord defeated, fully. Why did he feel that his own life was over? He was always fully on the Light Side. He should be inside celebrating. But he wouldn't, couldn't go. His arms were numb with the icy cold breeze that swept around the Tower. His knees were hurting from being so long in this position. He moved. Now he was perched on the window, his legs dangling as he watched the owls fly to and fro. He leaned more to the edge. Teardrops were stinging his bare cheek. He roughly pushed them aside. No, he didn't want to cry, didn't want to think about that.. So the world is liberated? They had celebrated for weeks, no grief to quench their joy. Why did he feel depressed? She had been taken. She had allowed herself to be taken. He had no chance, he missed her. He would miss her, he always missed her when she wasn't there. He should've realised, he should've said something, done something. Or maybe it was fate? No, he didn't believe in that. Or did he? Was it fate, destiny, an unknown force if you will that allowed a tiny baby survive and conquer the Dark Lord? But that was the stuff legends were about. It had been legendary, the last fight. He replayed it in his mind. Dumbledore wasn't there, he had been in hospital, recovering from a Death Eater attack. They needed to destroy Voldemort that night. He remembered after the fight, he was so panicked about her injuries that he never noticed that her heart had gone out to the unconscious form lying near by. She was in love with someone else. He recalled that one kiss. She'd been confused and stunned. She apologized after. A huge sob racked his body as he turned to his letter
I wish you both the best of luck
No, he couldn't write it, not if she was going to read it. He knew that she would give up her happiness and she was happy. He tore the paper up, it scattered, catching in the wind. It was better if she never knew why. He did wish them the best of luck, he loved them both, that was the problem, otherwise he could be bitter and angry. Now he felt gone. And as he leaned over the ledge, his fingers brushing off the rough stone work. As he prepared to fall only one scene was going through his head. Hermione saying "Harry and I are getting married, Ron."
How tactless.
He fell.
Finir- the French verb to end
REVIEW!!!!!!!!