Impossible
It is what we are,
What our love is,
How it will always be.
And yet it remains, as strong as time's memories that are locked in our hearts. In her heart, this memory of fire and ice, auburn and silver hair, messy plaits with both warm and cool hair entwined with love and desperation. In her heart, I will live. My own...It will crumble, turn into ashes which will merge with the debris of the war. The war that would not end without my sacrifice.
My ice-maiden, this beautiful French girl that drives me part way into insanity with desire for her, whispers to me. She tells me of my future. Of the future of the child in me. He also seems to listen, light tingles like feathers being run over the inside of my womb answering her voice, her moans, my own that mingle.
Does he know? Does my baby know his future?
How I wish I could tell him. The desire to change the future is so great, almost consuming. My only comfort is the French girl, her light caresses, the love she pours onto both Harry and myself. He will marry her in the future. She will love him as I once thought I would have had the chance to. She will provide him the love I could never have been able as a mother - the love of a wife to her husband.
My poor Harry. I love him already. I don't need to see him, to know that I hold no greater love for anyone but him.
And his future wife.
I love her too, as crazy as it sounds. Her hair, her eyes, her feathery touch that seems to do the right things to me. It would be a disgrace for my mother and father to know, that I am falling in love with a woman. And. I don't care.
We are not thinking of the future, of the war, of the sacrifice I'll be forced to make to keep my lover and my child alive, not right now.
All that matters is here, now. This moment; this night, this hour; her touch and my own; our mingled song of moans and whispers; the blinding contrast of fire red hair curled around long silken strands of silver; the beauty of her voice. Tomorrow, the day of her departure, is not tonight - it is a far away time that has not yet come to take her back to Harry and away from me.
*Harry, forgive me. Forgive me for my love, for not being selfish as one part of me screams I should do, and taking you in my arms far away. Avoid my own death, let you have a mother. Forgive her, for not telling you sooner that she also loved me, that we were also lovers. My darling child, forgive me for never telling you how much I loved you, when it mattered to you most, for not being there when your godfather was murdered. When Gabrielle tells you, lets you see us, do not be mad at her either. I love her as well, and she loves us both. You more, although it pains me to admit it. She would rather I die and you live, no matter what. May your life be long, and your heart filled with love for the girl who is today becoming your wife. I love you Harry. I'm there, I'm with you, and I will be beside her as she is led to you.*
~Lily Potter.
A.N:
The original challenge was: Pairing: Gabrielle Delacour/Lily Potter, Words: auburn; crisp; debris; feathers; disgrace
So, being someone who mostly has written Het (M/f pairings), it was ...different. Not bad, I adore seeing love in any form. ^_^
It is what we are,
What our love is,
How it will always be.
And yet it remains, as strong as time's memories that are locked in our hearts. In her heart, this memory of fire and ice, auburn and silver hair, messy plaits with both warm and cool hair entwined with love and desperation. In her heart, I will live. My own...It will crumble, turn into ashes which will merge with the debris of the war. The war that would not end without my sacrifice.
My ice-maiden, this beautiful French girl that drives me part way into insanity with desire for her, whispers to me. She tells me of my future. Of the future of the child in me. He also seems to listen, light tingles like feathers being run over the inside of my womb answering her voice, her moans, my own that mingle.
Does he know? Does my baby know his future?
How I wish I could tell him. The desire to change the future is so great, almost consuming. My only comfort is the French girl, her light caresses, the love she pours onto both Harry and myself. He will marry her in the future. She will love him as I once thought I would have had the chance to. She will provide him the love I could never have been able as a mother - the love of a wife to her husband.
My poor Harry. I love him already. I don't need to see him, to know that I hold no greater love for anyone but him.
And his future wife.
I love her too, as crazy as it sounds. Her hair, her eyes, her feathery touch that seems to do the right things to me. It would be a disgrace for my mother and father to know, that I am falling in love with a woman. And. I don't care.
We are not thinking of the future, of the war, of the sacrifice I'll be forced to make to keep my lover and my child alive, not right now.
All that matters is here, now. This moment; this night, this hour; her touch and my own; our mingled song of moans and whispers; the blinding contrast of fire red hair curled around long silken strands of silver; the beauty of her voice. Tomorrow, the day of her departure, is not tonight - it is a far away time that has not yet come to take her back to Harry and away from me.
*Harry, forgive me. Forgive me for my love, for not being selfish as one part of me screams I should do, and taking you in my arms far away. Avoid my own death, let you have a mother. Forgive her, for not telling you sooner that she also loved me, that we were also lovers. My darling child, forgive me for never telling you how much I loved you, when it mattered to you most, for not being there when your godfather was murdered. When Gabrielle tells you, lets you see us, do not be mad at her either. I love her as well, and she loves us both. You more, although it pains me to admit it. She would rather I die and you live, no matter what. May your life be long, and your heart filled with love for the girl who is today becoming your wife. I love you Harry. I'm there, I'm with you, and I will be beside her as she is led to you.*
~Lily Potter.
A.N:
The original challenge was: Pairing: Gabrielle Delacour/Lily Potter, Words: auburn; crisp; debris; feathers; disgrace
So, being someone who mostly has written Het (M/f pairings), it was ...different. Not bad, I adore seeing love in any form. ^_^
