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bonfoi ([info]bonfoi) wrote in [info]hpslash,
@ 2009-06-29 22:15:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Current mood: distressed

Mourning (Ambiguous HP slash pairing) G
Title:

Mourning

Author: [info]bonfoi
Rating: G
Pairing: Ambiguous HP slash pairing
Summary: Even death could not part them.
Challenge: none
Word Count: 235
Genre: Drama; Angst; Tragedy; Romance
Warnings: Death
A/N: My godfather passed away last week, and we attended his funeral on Friday, 26 June 2009. I wrote this in my grief.





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Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.

This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.


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They took the body from him. They washed his lover, not as tenderly as he had held him the night before, not a thoroughly as he as plumbed his depths the night before. They did not miss the tingle of his fingertips as they swept across his eyelids, a soft benediction that always drew him into the light. They did not trace the faint scar on his temple with a curious finger as he had the night before. They did not hold his hand as he grew cold and still, as he had.

There had been no warning, no sudden onslaught. Death came, conquered, and broke his heart.

He stood on the windswept hill, the nodding heads of flowering grassed shedding flowers as he wept. Soon, he whispered, soon, I'll come to you. My world is empty without you, without your strength, your wit. I can no longer see the sky for my tears, I can no longer feel the warmth for my grief.

They—that nebulous entity—found him three days later, a calm emptiness in his features. He rested against his lover's crypt, wrapped in that self-same lover's dark cloak, a sprig of heart's-ease pinned to his cloak.

When the sun is high, and the wind is gentle, they say you can hear a murmur of mingled voices, shared love that can never be lost...if one but hopes. That is what they say.

§¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪ §¤§₪


~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.
Thank you for reading. ~~~




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[info]bonfoi
2009-06-30 10:34 am UTC (link)
*hugs you back* I know. When it hurts, believe me, you'll most likely be the one to put the band-aid on.

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