Aug 9th
I knew what it was to have an enemy die. I knew wanting and separation. I had suffered torture and the death of friends. I also knew outstanding marks and the exhilaration of many successes. I had felt so many things over the years. I rode on a fucking dragon. I thought I knew what extraordinary was. That was before your fierce look. Before you looked on me with eyes that had finally given up the restraint we've both used for far too long.
Then there was your mouth next to my ear. Your low whisper on my skin.
"It's time, Hermione."
I shuddered. You curled your arms around my back. I was finally enfolded in you, after all the fruitless wanting. I started to cry. How could I not?
You told me to keep crying and I discovered what it was to finally unravel. I shook under the shifting of all my terrors and desires, at the expulsion of so much wretchedness and grief. At long last I felt the war start to leave. And you kept holding me.
What was left after such an exorcism? The smell of skin and summer. The ice above my heart's current shattered. You ran your lips across my mouth and all my atoms surrendered to the present, to you.
"You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves." -Mary Oliver
A/N: Goodbye and thank you for reading. :)