Drabbles and Poetry

Drabbles and Poetry

Alone

If I loved her, how could I leave her? ~ Jeff Melvoin

If you hadn't driven her away, she never would have married Potter. If she never married Potter, there never would have been a child. If she never had a child, never would have died.

"It's your fault, Severus."

Her voice always whispered into the recesses of his mind. That was the thought she ever mentioned, the only words she ever spoke and always in that softly chastising tone she used when they disagreed.

If you hadn't driven her away, she never would have stopped loving you and if she never stopped loving you, you wouldn't be alone.

He could see her face when he closed his eyes. Her own were intense emeralds that stared at him like a mother would a disobedient child. Her hair settled about her cheeks like curling crimson snakes. He watched with his soul as a light appeared behind her, a light the color and shade of her eyes.

"It's your fault, Severus... that I died..."

He looked on as the glare grew brighter, her face contorting into a silent scream.

You are alone because you killed her. It's your fault, Severus....

***

The Battle

The wind with its songs so light,

Carry with it our prayers tonight.

Upon the lake, the moon shines,

And in the darkness, evil dines.

Everyone's coming, young and old,

To send their voices to the cold,

Lift high your strength, your life to save,

And the stars witness the lights to wave.

Among us all, one boy that lived,

Must use the chance that Fate hath given,

Our souls go out, but theirs do not,

The side of dark, flesh, and rot,

They hope to save their burned skin

But Death and Torment lies within,

They know now, the End begin

And the knowledge that they cannot win.

***

Demons

Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

There are demons in this world, you know. They are the ones that you can't hide from or leave behind. They will not let you fade into the darkness of the shadows where you belong. They will not let you go. They will hold tight to you, bonded to you by the very blood that runs through your veins.

It's odd that I believe that the roles can be switched. His roles confuse me, but really, he always has. He can take the appearance of an angel, an avenger staring me down, calling me the evil one. He chooses to fight his battle in the light but he is cloud in front of that sun. His body sends darkness to the ground, stretching, making a path for him in his life.

He is wickedness and everything Slytherin. He just does not realize it.

His whole being is cursed and he turned that vile blight upon me. He turned me down. He turned me away. At eleven, it felt that he shattered my world. He would not become the only friend I ever had. He set the stage and we as actors in this life play on. Now, he challenges me and he overpowers me. It really doesn't take much to do that. I become weak when I am faced against him. Maybe it is too simple to say that he controls me.

I'm his puppet. He just does not realize it.

So, with the aura of a hero, he walks through these halls, and I play my part. I taunt him. He scowls. I call him names. He stares me down. I smirk at him and inside, my soul shrivels. His friends tell him that I am not worth it. They think he is too good for me; yet, I know better. I have seen the black in his soul. I have seen the haunted look in his eyes. I have seen the pain in his heart that he tries to hide. I have witnessed his nightmares because they became my own.

Everyone has demons.

He is my demon, my evil.

He just does not realize it.

***

End

We can't know what's in another person's heart; we can't even know what's in our own. Life turns on a dime, and somehow we muddle through. ~ Martin Sage and Sybil Adelman

"Tell Harry I'm sorry I broke our promise."

She bit back the sob forming within her, heart pounding hard in her chest. She clenched his hand like a lifeline as he coughed violently trembling and jerking. She stared into his eyes, a soft blue burning with a smoldering flame. She watched as tears welled gently until they fell in crystal rivers down his cheeks. She realized as her stomach gave a sickening quiver that it was the first time she had ever seen him cry.

"Tell him that he'll find a way to get through the Veil."

She squeezed his hand tightly and he tenderly answered. She watched as his eyes unfocused and she called out his name once, twice afraid he was already gone. He smiled looking back to her, letting go of her hand briefly to brush her hair from her mahogany eyes. His fingertips caught a teardrop and she grabbed his hand keeping in on her face.

"Tell him that I believe that he can save us all."

She stared at him, eyes never wavering or blinking, only staring, drinking him in. She felt him pull her closer, mind numbly registering the sounds of war around them. He smiled even though pain laced his features.

"And...

"And what?"

"And tell Hermione... that I love her..."

He moved weakly with her as she leaned down, nuzzling his neck where blood had dried. He whispered her name, so softly it could have been the wind. She let her tears fall mingling in between them. She smiled at him before she leaned forward and met his lips with her own. It was a sweet kiss, merely the brushing of skin but to them it signaled their beginning.

She suddenly felt him grow cold beneath her as a breath escaped him from a mouth that would draw no more.

"I love you, too."

But to them their beginning was also their end.

***

Family

Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about. ~ Trey Parker and Matt Stone

The night was cold and the garden seemed dead in the frost. A bare tree sat in the middle of the small patch of grass. Stones were piled at its trunk, all white rocks stained dark with dew. Withered flowers lay among the stones, shriveled by the wind. It was among this scene that he found her, kneeling as if to pray.

"You should be inside. They were asking for you."

A small empty laugh echoed from her as her hands lifted a drooping rose from the ground. She lifted its heavy bud with one finger and studied it for a moment. She put her lips to the drying petals and kissed. With a sigh, she placed the dying plant back before the stones.

"I cannot be in there. I cannot celebrate a victory that resulted with so much death." Her dark eyes sought him, twinkling in the light of the crescent moon. "Why do you come? Why is it you that seeks me?"

"We share the same past. I will not leave you face this burden alone not like they would have you do."

"They are afraid of me." She inhaled sharply and turned back to the tree. "They are afraid of what to say. The Weasley's lost two sons to this war and maybe they can celebrate that no other of their family will die. I cannot because I have won no victory. My family is dead."

"Do you want me to say what told long ago?"

"Three years is not such a long time. It was this war that made it long. It was this war that made us ancient to our times."

He stood in silence as she rose, her crimson dress unfurling, ripping like a waterfall of blood. It symbolized the dead, her family and the ones she cast to their graves. It reminded him of the rose she had recently held for she too was withered.

"Angels have danced before you," he whispered.

Her back stiffened, her hands curling into fists. She faced him, tears shining in her eyes. She gritted her teeth as the tears fell each one hot and angry.

"And angels have died! I am no longer a child, Severus! I am no longer seduced by your words. I am not beautiful! I am a wretch! I am a murderer! I am not same person. I should have died with them!" She looked to the stones, arms wrapped around her as if to ward off a chill. "I should have been slain on that battlefield..."

"Has Potter's sacrifice taught you nothing, you ignorant girl?"

"Do not patronize me." She growled. "You have no right."

He walked toward her and slowly brought his bare arms around her waist. Her eyes clenched shut and she let him hold her. She gripped her hand at his knuckles where they lay on her stomach.

"I do not wish you to suffer alone. I do not wish for you grieve this way."

"I am the last of a trio, the last leg to a triangle. I don't want to be alone. I want to end the fighting. I do not want to grieve any more. Will you stay with me, please?"

"I will stay with you. I will protect you and cherish you. I could give you nothing less." He nuzzled her hair and tightened his grip on her. "I will be your family, Hermione, that is, if you could ever find it in you to love a sinful man."

"Who am I to judge?" She turned in his embrace and reached up to plant a soft kiss on his pale lips. "I still love you. I never stopped."

***

The Four

Deep and dark, these forbidden woods,

Sharp, hard, the clap of hooves.

Loud and muffled, the pounding of paws,

Like echoes of a man's guffaws.

Leaves stir stating a small beings hustle,

The thorn strikes moving muscle.

They follow the leader, the alpha, the first,

Grey wolf with an unholy thirst.

Third jumps First, fur entwine,

As they play among the dirt and vine.

The Second and Fourth watch adoringly,

Curling along the mud floor to sleep.

The Second wakes to whimpers and sobs,

The wild of the First the rising sun robs.

The pain of his cries only these understand,

As the change completes from animal to man.

***

Love / Hate

Trouble is a part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you a chance to love you enough. ~ Diana Shore

It was always the same, always in secret, always concealed in the shadows. She would come and wait, sometimes forever, sometimes all night. He came only when he could; not realizing that she would begin waiting long before his letter would arrive telling her he would not be there. She never knew. She always thought he did not care anything for her because she never received them.

"I hate you," she whispered, tears falling down flushed cheeks, salt water sliding over swollen lips. She pulled away from him, hiding her face, shame lighting in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered again, her eyes boring into his. He stared back as his insides crumbled, wanting her to walk away.

"Why?"

Her heart shattered; her bravery drowning as he walked toward her. He stood, towering over her, hands tangling in her hair.

"Why do you hate me?"

"Because you always... you... you hurt me Draco..."

He stood rigid, still, his insides growing cold. He looked into her eyes, searching but they were like glass marbles that could not be read.

"I try to be gentle. You..."

"No... no... not that..." She mumbled sobbing. She reached for his hand, which he gave. She looked into his eyes, her pain shining in her own. She entwined their fingers and placed their hands over her heart.

"You hurt me, Draco..."

His other arm came around her and he buried his face into her hair. He felt tears sting his eyes as he held her. His fingers squeezed hers as her head came to rest on his chest. He felt her tears soak through his shirt.

"I hate you," she whispered once more, softly and almost affectionately. She looked into his eyes, a small sad smile on her face. "And I hurt you..."

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling at her. "And I hate you, too."

He wanted her more than he ever wanted anything before. He wanted her because she was forbidden. He wanted her because she had showed him forgiveness and...

Love...

***

Reflections

For he comes, the human child... From a world more full of weeping than he can understand. ~ The Stolen Child, William Butler Yeats

It's easier just to fall to your grave...

The thought would always linger, always be near to his heart. He remembered the day he had heard those words spoken in a fit of darkness with the snow falling softly outside. He had remembered the way the boy's breath had softly caressed each word before gently fading on the last.

It had been his last year in the castle, his last Christmas before the end of everything. They had all lain in bed, all five of them awake and silent. There were no muffled sounds of sleep, no murmurs of dreams lulling in the quiet. The blackness of the room could almost swallow them and then he had begun to speak.

He had spoken of life before magic. He had spoken of wishes left unfulfilled. He had whispered about his faith in them. He had spoken of each of their talents and how they would save themselves. He had, however, never mentioned his fears and he had never cried. He had saved his tears for the demise of the Dark Lord.

He lay still with the sounds of his breath and spoke the words that would condemn him.

It's easier just to fall to your grave...

He never fell through a Veil or had been the victim of a murderer. Instead, he was the murderer and his heart killed him. He never had a cause of death because it had just happened. It had been said days later that it was something that had to happen. He had served his purpose and he was no longer needed.

It was as if his friend, his brother, had never been a person.

He had wishes and hopes and dreams for himself and everyone around him. He loved his friends more so with her and him. They were his something more in his life.

It's easier just to fall to your grave...

And in the end, he had.

***

Whisper

We all have the extraordinary coded within us, waiting to be released. ~ Jean Houston

You broke me, slaughtered my soul.

Of course, no one knows this but you.

I cannot live without you. I feel empty. I want to feel whole; I want to feel you. You showed me a dark love when I was only eleven, such a tender age. I was tricked into killing innocent beings to write your messages. I was led into believing you were all I needed.

I was controlled and do not think that I cannot remember how that felt. I felt it before and I want it again.

Tom Riddle... Voldemort... It doesn't matter to me who you want to think that you are. You are the same to me, the same man, and the one I know that can give me power. I would take the Mark to be with you. Others I am sure don't understand what it feels like to have life held at you fingertips. Power has become an addiction to me. You have become my desire.

But is my call only a whisper to you? To me it is a scream.