Siren
By RD
Rain.
Dark, deep, heavy rain.
It rains on, and Harry Potter sleeps. He dreams. He dreams of a woman. A beautiful, tall, black haired woman. A veela? No. A siren, perhaps. She dances. Her hair skips along the ground, her arms fly up around her head, her face ever spinning too fast to see the features.
He walks, one step.
Their faces are together, almost touching. Her coal hair falls all across her face. His hands part it ever so gently, only until he can see her lips. They curl cruely. And she sings.
It rains on. In Harry Potter's dream.
*
He is the Boy Who Lived. And yet, in her eyes, he is no-one. He wants so badly for her to see him. He stares at her, unhearing the noises around him, the people talking at him, the train's wheels on the track, footsteps. All he hears and sees is her.
A jolt. The train lurches. Someone tumbles back into him.
A blur.
He fumbles around on the floor, face red, feeling foolish.
A hand on his shoulder.
"Here. You dropped these."
Clarity. A face, a beautiful, soft face. If only he could reach out and...But his hands stay firmly on the floor. She smiles and he cannot help grinning a silly grin.
"I-I like your hair." He mumbles.
"Really? I grew it out over the holidays. I wasn't sure if it was too long."
Her voice sings.
"Oh no, it looks...lovely, Cho."
...
It rains.
By RD
Rain.
Dark, deep, heavy rain.
It rains on, and Harry Potter sleeps. He dreams. He dreams of a woman. A beautiful, tall, black haired woman. A veela? No. A siren, perhaps. She dances. Her hair skips along the ground, her arms fly up around her head, her face ever spinning too fast to see the features.
He walks, one step.
Their faces are together, almost touching. Her coal hair falls all across her face. His hands part it ever so gently, only until he can see her lips. They curl cruely. And she sings.
It rains on. In Harry Potter's dream.
*
He is the Boy Who Lived. And yet, in her eyes, he is no-one. He wants so badly for her to see him. He stares at her, unhearing the noises around him, the people talking at him, the train's wheels on the track, footsteps. All he hears and sees is her.
A jolt. The train lurches. Someone tumbles back into him.
A blur.
He fumbles around on the floor, face red, feeling foolish.
A hand on his shoulder.
"Here. You dropped these."
Clarity. A face, a beautiful, soft face. If only he could reach out and...But his hands stay firmly on the floor. She smiles and he cannot help grinning a silly grin.
"I-I like your hair." He mumbles.
"Really? I grew it out over the holidays. I wasn't sure if it was too long."
Her voice sings.
"Oh no, it looks...lovely, Cho."
...
It rains.