Disclaimer: All I own is this lousy computer, and my skills as a
*apparently* decent writer.
Author's Note: Here it is, the very complete ending of "Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Up" Because of the amazing reviews I've received I decided on having another chapter added to the lovely little Fan Fiction of mine. My only hope is, that you like it as much...or more...than you liked the first. If I let you guys down, I apologize so very much. I tried. Well, here it is.
I also wish to apologize in advance for those who may be offended as to Pansy's way of dealing with her emotional pain. If it comes as any consolation, I have gone through it, and am writing from the eyes of an experienced personage. I, in no way, attended this to be a stereotype or declaration of prejudice. I sincerely do not wish to hurt anyone, and hope I still maintain my list of avid readers. If you wish to express your comments, please e-mail me and I will apologize more formally. Thank you.
I hope you enjoy, Aly
~Fly Away With Me~
Silence, the sound of everything. It occurred to him once in his short lifetime that silence stood for all the was good and evil. Silence symbolized every emotion, every colour, every sound. Silence was the noise of imagination, the colour of creativity, and the look of balance. It was all these things and more, because as long as you had silence, you could have everything. You could have loud, or soft. Dark, or light. Sadness, or happiness. He had all these things, and more. So, forever, he loved Silence. Silence made him feel whole. For a long time, his silence was disrupted. Days were spent as his young mind, ever so confused, tried to sort the good from the bad, the dark from the light, the happiness from the sadness. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. With each painful comparison, a wound was opened, and with every complication, salt was poured on top of those wounds only to be slowly dissolved into the once healing scars. It wasn't until his angel softly flew down from the heavens, and helped him.
On the branch of a tree, her healing prayer covered his wounds and made him whole once again. From then on he could live his life the way he had always wanted to. He had self-pride and dignity, determination and independence, and a mind of his own. He had the ability to speak against his Father's will, and the pain subsided. Him and his angel lived in tranquility for the rest of years. She was always there for him, a wall to lean on, a bridge to travel over, or an eagle to gaze upon when the sky was bland. It seemed that she was such a magnetic pole of life, so charismatic in her vitality, that other expressions of life found it intolerable. But he loved her.
They had a Sun and Moon relationship, he benefited from her glow.
Nevertheless, in all the time they had spent together, he wasn't prepared. Never did he imagine that something would happen, and for once, the consequences of where the Ashes fell would be up to him.
~*~
It was hardly a year later when she left him. Her parents forcing her from her surroundings, into a place where she would feel a little taste of freedom. Pansy Parkinson, was moving.
Draco remembered when she told him, or better yet, confronted him on the matter. It had begun as a regular excursion to the Mother Willow, as they did daily. But when he arrived, there she was. The little girl he had met a year ago, wearing the same denim overall's and white Mary-Jane's. But this time, something was different. There was no smile, no greeting, and no hello. He sensed it right away. Tension you could cut with a knife.
It was then she told him. Her parents were waiting back at the house, she was leaving today. Not sure of where she was going, how long she was staying, or if she would ever be back. Draco remembered trying to stay strong. Trying to fight back the tears and keep them inside. Then, he remembered her walking away.
Smiling, waving, skipping through the meadow as if everything would be okay. But it wasn't. His angel was leaving him. Leaving him to figure things out as his own person. That, he could not handle.
For days he sat in that tree. Simple waiting. Waiting for the day she would come back to him. But his angel never came.
Draco lost hope.
~*~The Summer, 3 years later~*~
A flick of the wrist was all that it took to send the smooth, round rock into the depths of the riverbed. It's surface like rippling cellophane, uncovering a world so very different from his own. He loved to sit there are watch, in fascination, when the summer sky was painfully clear, and the grass was moist beneath his seat. Gazing, smoky blue eyes watering, as he compared the simplistic life of the under water creatures to his own. The hustling of the larger fish, as they swam against the current, and the flow of the smaller fish as they went with the ripples of the cool water, easing their way through life. He represented the smaller fish, and so far his technique had been working. Running a slightly sand-grained hand through his hair he released a sigh of exasperation as he reached beside his crossed legs and snatched another pebble from it's indented spot on the shore of the creek. Slowly, arching his wrist perfectly, he sent it flying across the water's surface. Skimming it, the belly of the rock jumped eight times, before submerging itself to the darkness of the hollow river bottom. Looking at his watch, and the hues of the sky, he told himself silently that it was time to get going. So he lifted himself to his feet, heading off towards home. It wasn't until he passed under the Willow until everything changed.
There it was, on his path home from the riverbed, a tall sturdy Willow tree. A place he had visited many times as a kid, simply to get away from it all. But he was eleven now, and the comfort of the strength and independence of the sturdy branches no longer brought him the same ease as did the company of a friend, or sympathetic words. As he walked underneath it's silken vines, he heard something that made him stop. A fluttering sigh, accompanied by the sound of heaving sobs. Draco turned abruptly, as coughing, and harder attempts at covering the emotional distress joined the sobs. Such as mumbled curse words, and phrases. Deciding that descending the tree would be the best way to rid himself of the curiosity, he did so, and found something he wasn't ready for.
Pansy Parkinson.
There she was, in all of her elegant grace and beauty, although looking quite distressed and disheveled. Her curled, golden tresses lay on her shoulders, wrapping her porcelain face and sun lightened freckles like a worthy frame. Her eyes were closed, and a gentle hand wiped away the tears forming around the corners of her mouth. For a second, Draco thought that the best thing to do was leave. She had yet to see him. They hadn't spoken in years, and she had changed quite a deal. It would be perfect, he would leave and no one would be the wiser. But if he left, who else would come? He had known Pansy forever, since the dawning of his own time. Now, she needed someone, and he was going to be there. Or loose his patience trying.
Opening his mouth, he uttered words both sweet and decisive, a tone which had never been recognized in his words prior to, "I do say Pansy, crying isn't very becoming you know. A pretty girl such as yourself has no reason to shed a tear. What in the name of Merlin is wrong?"
Pansy looked up from her spot on the branch, which seemed a great deal smaller that it had eight years ago. Now it only fit Draco and herself tightly. Her eyes glazed, as if to buckle into a convulsion of tears, but he inched closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She opened her mouth, to state the most crucial words she would ever utter, but shut it again, burying her head in his shoulder and beginning to cry.
With a pale, bony finger, her lifted her head up, resting his hand underneath her chin. His eyes staring deep into hers, and finding something in them he never saw before. He recognized that feeling, the feeling of being alone. Already his lungs had flown away like a bird, and his stomach slithered away like a snake. Suddenly, his tongue dropped like a heavy rock, and his jaw galloped on the spot like a nervous gazelle. He had no words, but questioned her again, this time more roughly, "Pansy, what IS the matter?"
Icily, she pulled away from his cradling arms, rubbing her eyes with her shaking hands.
"I don't know Drake, I don't know," Pansy began to cry harder, "Or maybe I know, but I'm not willing to understand."
Draco leaned in closer, holding her again in his arms, this time there was no struggle from her shaking body. He knew that he wasn't going to have to ask again for more of an answer, Pansy was going to tell him, even if it took days. "I have all the time in the world for you," He chose his words carefully. In all his years and practice with the opposite sex he had discovered it wasn't WHAT you said, it was HOW you said it. But his technique didn't work as planned.
The long, awkward, strung out silence hit the two adolescents like bullets. But Draco loved silence, knowing something would become of it. Slowly, Pansy's tears dried, and clearing her voice she began to tell him everything. Everything, being a lot more than he was ready to handle.
"It seems like everything I've had, I've lost. I can't quite understand how or what got me to this point...but I just wish that...that I could close my eyes and wish it all away." Pansy whispered hoarsely. It was apparent to Draco that for reasons unknown a severe form of anxiety and depression had quickly hit her, opening wounds larger than the ones he was sure he had.
Draco tried to think for a second, but in such a circumstance ideas did not flow so easily. However, there was one thing he needed to know. He reached over to her shirt sleeve, and gently tugged it up around her elbow. There they were, as he had expected. Large, red wounds. Paper thin, some slightly scabbing, others wet with blood and covered with hand made bandages. At this moment, he saw that through all the years of Pansy being there for him, he had not once returned the favor. In turn, he started to cry.
She grabbed him closer, and hugged him tightly. He pushed her away, a sign of slight anger.
"Why did you do it?" His eyes narrowed as he looked over her emotions, hoping he could get something out of her.
She took a long pause, and a couple smooth breathes before she presented an answer, "It was as if, I finally had control over something. I had control over pain. When I wanted to feel it, how much of it I wanted to feel. I could control something."
"But why?" He asked again, wanting a deeper answer.
"You would never understand!" She cried out, her voice hard and torn from the usual tone of grace.
"Try me." Draco stated, his teeth locked together, words like low snarls.
"My life was a vicious circle. I always had the advice, but no one giving me any. I had to move, I lost you, there were expectations riding on my back. I always had to be Pansy, the perfect example of pureness and serenity. It was awful. I couldn't hold myself. To be in such a situation is like always being caught up in a grim and exhausting game of opposites. When it is light, the openness is blinding and frightening. When it is dark, the darkness is claustrophobic. When it rains, you are nearly drowned, cold, and wish to be dry. When it is hot you wish to be wet, for you are parched. The worst pair of opposites is boredom and terror, causing your life, like a pendulum to swing from one to another. Why did my life have to be a pendulum, when I simply asked for a clock." Pansy ended her rather long explanation, with the shutting of her eyes. For the moment being, she simply wanted to shut out the look on his face as he spoke in confusion.
"When did you do it last?" His words hit her hard, as her mind raced against the calendar of her visits with frustration. She couldn't remember the last time it had happened. But she survived. Time was just a simple illusion that made her pant. She survived because she forgot the very notion of time. When she released it from her mind, there were no borders, no boundaries.
Instead of answering the question, she decided that by maybe changing the concept of the conversation, she would allow him to understand in a fuller way. "Only death excited my emotions, whether it was contemplating it when life is safe and stale, or fleeing it when life is threatened and precious."
"I'm sorry," He whispered, as he wrapped his tender arms around her, and allowed her to imitate the action. He had no idea what had to be done next. It was like a game of chess, the very ending, when there are only a few more pieces left to be put into play. The elements of the game couldn't be more simple, nor the stakes any higher.
Slowly, he reached for the left arm, the one that had been revealed to have the abrasions beforehand. He lifted the sleeve softly, and did something so completely striking that Pansy loved him for it. She loved him for it. He took his right index finger, and kissed it with his full and luscious lips, then placed his finger on top of each and every single gash.
Gradually, she smiled, a modest glow of hope flickered within Draco. Like a candle in the night, it's shine reaching deep into his soul.
"Thank you Draco," Pansy said softly, her voice quivering nervously as she nestled her head into his shoulder, "I've missed you so."
"I can't believe you're here." Draco's words were whispered into her ear, as he shut his eyes and leaned against the sturdy trunk of the tree where the branch shot out.
Pansy shut her eyes as well, like shutters to the pain. They closed it out, and created a emptiness where the darkness had once been. His words rang through her ears. "I can't believe you're here."
Pansy smiled, "I never really left."
~*~
If you were to walk through the meadow, not paying close attention to your surroundings, you would never see the secluded individuals hiding amongst the tethered leaves of the strong Mother Willow. But stand beneath the branch, and you'd view a world wondrously painful, by simply being. Because, underneath that tree, you would peer up, into the vast satin sheets of loose strands of leaves. And there they would be, holding each other so closely and tightly, never wanting the other to leave.
And you would hear their voices, in unison, with rhythm and melody, softly singing;
"Ring-around-the-rosy, A Pocketful of posy. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Up"
~THE VERY END~
Author's Note: Here it is, the very complete ending of "Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Up" Because of the amazing reviews I've received I decided on having another chapter added to the lovely little Fan Fiction of mine. My only hope is, that you like it as much...or more...than you liked the first. If I let you guys down, I apologize so very much. I tried. Well, here it is.
I also wish to apologize in advance for those who may be offended as to Pansy's way of dealing with her emotional pain. If it comes as any consolation, I have gone through it, and am writing from the eyes of an experienced personage. I, in no way, attended this to be a stereotype or declaration of prejudice. I sincerely do not wish to hurt anyone, and hope I still maintain my list of avid readers. If you wish to express your comments, please e-mail me and I will apologize more formally. Thank you.
I hope you enjoy, Aly
~Fly Away With Me~
Silence, the sound of everything. It occurred to him once in his short lifetime that silence stood for all the was good and evil. Silence symbolized every emotion, every colour, every sound. Silence was the noise of imagination, the colour of creativity, and the look of balance. It was all these things and more, because as long as you had silence, you could have everything. You could have loud, or soft. Dark, or light. Sadness, or happiness. He had all these things, and more. So, forever, he loved Silence. Silence made him feel whole. For a long time, his silence was disrupted. Days were spent as his young mind, ever so confused, tried to sort the good from the bad, the dark from the light, the happiness from the sadness. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. With each painful comparison, a wound was opened, and with every complication, salt was poured on top of those wounds only to be slowly dissolved into the once healing scars. It wasn't until his angel softly flew down from the heavens, and helped him.
On the branch of a tree, her healing prayer covered his wounds and made him whole once again. From then on he could live his life the way he had always wanted to. He had self-pride and dignity, determination and independence, and a mind of his own. He had the ability to speak against his Father's will, and the pain subsided. Him and his angel lived in tranquility for the rest of years. She was always there for him, a wall to lean on, a bridge to travel over, or an eagle to gaze upon when the sky was bland. It seemed that she was such a magnetic pole of life, so charismatic in her vitality, that other expressions of life found it intolerable. But he loved her.
They had a Sun and Moon relationship, he benefited from her glow.
Nevertheless, in all the time they had spent together, he wasn't prepared. Never did he imagine that something would happen, and for once, the consequences of where the Ashes fell would be up to him.
~*~
It was hardly a year later when she left him. Her parents forcing her from her surroundings, into a place where she would feel a little taste of freedom. Pansy Parkinson, was moving.
Draco remembered when she told him, or better yet, confronted him on the matter. It had begun as a regular excursion to the Mother Willow, as they did daily. But when he arrived, there she was. The little girl he had met a year ago, wearing the same denim overall's and white Mary-Jane's. But this time, something was different. There was no smile, no greeting, and no hello. He sensed it right away. Tension you could cut with a knife.
It was then she told him. Her parents were waiting back at the house, she was leaving today. Not sure of where she was going, how long she was staying, or if she would ever be back. Draco remembered trying to stay strong. Trying to fight back the tears and keep them inside. Then, he remembered her walking away.
Smiling, waving, skipping through the meadow as if everything would be okay. But it wasn't. His angel was leaving him. Leaving him to figure things out as his own person. That, he could not handle.
For days he sat in that tree. Simple waiting. Waiting for the day she would come back to him. But his angel never came.
Draco lost hope.
~*~The Summer, 3 years later~*~
A flick of the wrist was all that it took to send the smooth, round rock into the depths of the riverbed. It's surface like rippling cellophane, uncovering a world so very different from his own. He loved to sit there are watch, in fascination, when the summer sky was painfully clear, and the grass was moist beneath his seat. Gazing, smoky blue eyes watering, as he compared the simplistic life of the under water creatures to his own. The hustling of the larger fish, as they swam against the current, and the flow of the smaller fish as they went with the ripples of the cool water, easing their way through life. He represented the smaller fish, and so far his technique had been working. Running a slightly sand-grained hand through his hair he released a sigh of exasperation as he reached beside his crossed legs and snatched another pebble from it's indented spot on the shore of the creek. Slowly, arching his wrist perfectly, he sent it flying across the water's surface. Skimming it, the belly of the rock jumped eight times, before submerging itself to the darkness of the hollow river bottom. Looking at his watch, and the hues of the sky, he told himself silently that it was time to get going. So he lifted himself to his feet, heading off towards home. It wasn't until he passed under the Willow until everything changed.
There it was, on his path home from the riverbed, a tall sturdy Willow tree. A place he had visited many times as a kid, simply to get away from it all. But he was eleven now, and the comfort of the strength and independence of the sturdy branches no longer brought him the same ease as did the company of a friend, or sympathetic words. As he walked underneath it's silken vines, he heard something that made him stop. A fluttering sigh, accompanied by the sound of heaving sobs. Draco turned abruptly, as coughing, and harder attempts at covering the emotional distress joined the sobs. Such as mumbled curse words, and phrases. Deciding that descending the tree would be the best way to rid himself of the curiosity, he did so, and found something he wasn't ready for.
Pansy Parkinson.
There she was, in all of her elegant grace and beauty, although looking quite distressed and disheveled. Her curled, golden tresses lay on her shoulders, wrapping her porcelain face and sun lightened freckles like a worthy frame. Her eyes were closed, and a gentle hand wiped away the tears forming around the corners of her mouth. For a second, Draco thought that the best thing to do was leave. She had yet to see him. They hadn't spoken in years, and she had changed quite a deal. It would be perfect, he would leave and no one would be the wiser. But if he left, who else would come? He had known Pansy forever, since the dawning of his own time. Now, she needed someone, and he was going to be there. Or loose his patience trying.
Opening his mouth, he uttered words both sweet and decisive, a tone which had never been recognized in his words prior to, "I do say Pansy, crying isn't very becoming you know. A pretty girl such as yourself has no reason to shed a tear. What in the name of Merlin is wrong?"
Pansy looked up from her spot on the branch, which seemed a great deal smaller that it had eight years ago. Now it only fit Draco and herself tightly. Her eyes glazed, as if to buckle into a convulsion of tears, but he inched closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She opened her mouth, to state the most crucial words she would ever utter, but shut it again, burying her head in his shoulder and beginning to cry.
With a pale, bony finger, her lifted her head up, resting his hand underneath her chin. His eyes staring deep into hers, and finding something in them he never saw before. He recognized that feeling, the feeling of being alone. Already his lungs had flown away like a bird, and his stomach slithered away like a snake. Suddenly, his tongue dropped like a heavy rock, and his jaw galloped on the spot like a nervous gazelle. He had no words, but questioned her again, this time more roughly, "Pansy, what IS the matter?"
Icily, she pulled away from his cradling arms, rubbing her eyes with her shaking hands.
"I don't know Drake, I don't know," Pansy began to cry harder, "Or maybe I know, but I'm not willing to understand."
Draco leaned in closer, holding her again in his arms, this time there was no struggle from her shaking body. He knew that he wasn't going to have to ask again for more of an answer, Pansy was going to tell him, even if it took days. "I have all the time in the world for you," He chose his words carefully. In all his years and practice with the opposite sex he had discovered it wasn't WHAT you said, it was HOW you said it. But his technique didn't work as planned.
The long, awkward, strung out silence hit the two adolescents like bullets. But Draco loved silence, knowing something would become of it. Slowly, Pansy's tears dried, and clearing her voice she began to tell him everything. Everything, being a lot more than he was ready to handle.
"It seems like everything I've had, I've lost. I can't quite understand how or what got me to this point...but I just wish that...that I could close my eyes and wish it all away." Pansy whispered hoarsely. It was apparent to Draco that for reasons unknown a severe form of anxiety and depression had quickly hit her, opening wounds larger than the ones he was sure he had.
Draco tried to think for a second, but in such a circumstance ideas did not flow so easily. However, there was one thing he needed to know. He reached over to her shirt sleeve, and gently tugged it up around her elbow. There they were, as he had expected. Large, red wounds. Paper thin, some slightly scabbing, others wet with blood and covered with hand made bandages. At this moment, he saw that through all the years of Pansy being there for him, he had not once returned the favor. In turn, he started to cry.
She grabbed him closer, and hugged him tightly. He pushed her away, a sign of slight anger.
"Why did you do it?" His eyes narrowed as he looked over her emotions, hoping he could get something out of her.
She took a long pause, and a couple smooth breathes before she presented an answer, "It was as if, I finally had control over something. I had control over pain. When I wanted to feel it, how much of it I wanted to feel. I could control something."
"But why?" He asked again, wanting a deeper answer.
"You would never understand!" She cried out, her voice hard and torn from the usual tone of grace.
"Try me." Draco stated, his teeth locked together, words like low snarls.
"My life was a vicious circle. I always had the advice, but no one giving me any. I had to move, I lost you, there were expectations riding on my back. I always had to be Pansy, the perfect example of pureness and serenity. It was awful. I couldn't hold myself. To be in such a situation is like always being caught up in a grim and exhausting game of opposites. When it is light, the openness is blinding and frightening. When it is dark, the darkness is claustrophobic. When it rains, you are nearly drowned, cold, and wish to be dry. When it is hot you wish to be wet, for you are parched. The worst pair of opposites is boredom and terror, causing your life, like a pendulum to swing from one to another. Why did my life have to be a pendulum, when I simply asked for a clock." Pansy ended her rather long explanation, with the shutting of her eyes. For the moment being, she simply wanted to shut out the look on his face as he spoke in confusion.
"When did you do it last?" His words hit her hard, as her mind raced against the calendar of her visits with frustration. She couldn't remember the last time it had happened. But she survived. Time was just a simple illusion that made her pant. She survived because she forgot the very notion of time. When she released it from her mind, there were no borders, no boundaries.
Instead of answering the question, she decided that by maybe changing the concept of the conversation, she would allow him to understand in a fuller way. "Only death excited my emotions, whether it was contemplating it when life is safe and stale, or fleeing it when life is threatened and precious."
"I'm sorry," He whispered, as he wrapped his tender arms around her, and allowed her to imitate the action. He had no idea what had to be done next. It was like a game of chess, the very ending, when there are only a few more pieces left to be put into play. The elements of the game couldn't be more simple, nor the stakes any higher.
Slowly, he reached for the left arm, the one that had been revealed to have the abrasions beforehand. He lifted the sleeve softly, and did something so completely striking that Pansy loved him for it. She loved him for it. He took his right index finger, and kissed it with his full and luscious lips, then placed his finger on top of each and every single gash.
Gradually, she smiled, a modest glow of hope flickered within Draco. Like a candle in the night, it's shine reaching deep into his soul.
"Thank you Draco," Pansy said softly, her voice quivering nervously as she nestled her head into his shoulder, "I've missed you so."
"I can't believe you're here." Draco's words were whispered into her ear, as he shut his eyes and leaned against the sturdy trunk of the tree where the branch shot out.
Pansy shut her eyes as well, like shutters to the pain. They closed it out, and created a emptiness where the darkness had once been. His words rang through her ears. "I can't believe you're here."
Pansy smiled, "I never really left."
~*~
If you were to walk through the meadow, not paying close attention to your surroundings, you would never see the secluded individuals hiding amongst the tethered leaves of the strong Mother Willow. But stand beneath the branch, and you'd view a world wondrously painful, by simply being. Because, underneath that tree, you would peer up, into the vast satin sheets of loose strands of leaves. And there they would be, holding each other so closely and tightly, never wanting the other to leave.
And you would hear their voices, in unison, with rhythm and melody, softly singing;
"Ring-around-the-rosy, A Pocketful of posy. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Up"
~THE VERY END~