Primera Noche Sin Tarea
I haven't done one of these in sooo long!
Characters/Pairing: Harry, implied H/D
Word count: 380
A/N: My 15 minutes were up before I actually got to anything relating to “fatigue.” I was getting there, though...
You don't look the same anymore.
I know that the war had a lot to do with it, but I'd like to hope that it was partly because of me. I would like to believe that I meant enough to you to cause some change, to make you think about me during your nights in exile, your nights in hiding.
I guess I'll never know, now.
I suppose it doesn't matter, really. I never wanted to cause you pain or anything of that sort; I just wanted to know if you loved me like I loved you. But I guess that's not the best way to say it. You wouldn't love in the same way that I do. But whatever your equivalent is, I hope I was in some way related. I tell myself that that's the only reason why things played out the way they did. I guess I just don't see any other reasonable explanation. Not that anything about us, about this, has ever been reasonable.
I don't know if I feel the same way about you that I did.
Before the war, there was a minimal chance that we could fight through everything that was expected of us. Maybe we would just ignore it, wrapped up in everything that we shouldn't have been doing, every emotion that we couldn't afford to feel. Still in school, it was easier to be oblivious to the world. But we graduated into a war, a war in which we both played parts, bigger pieces to a puzzle than any teenagers should have to be responsible for. You, the first death; me, the last.
It wasn't how I thought it would be, the war. I had unfounded and romantic ideas about fighting, nursed on too many fairy tales and too many days locked in cupboards with white horses and chivalrous knights and beautiful princesses. Killing was like nothing I could have prepared myself for.
Thinking back on it, I'm surprised that Horcruxes are a banned subject, because I think I speak for everyone when I say that having your soul ripped apart is an experience not worthy of silence. It seemed in our war that not even children would be whole again.
You don't look the same anymore, both inside and out.
And I joined new communities today! Yay! Mostly stuff for William Moseley and Narnia. *sigh*
Characters/Pairing: Harry, implied H/D
Word count: 380
A/N: My 15 minutes were up before I actually got to anything relating to “fatigue.” I was getting there, though...
You don't look the same anymore.
I know that the war had a lot to do with it, but I'd like to hope that it was partly because of me. I would like to believe that I meant enough to you to cause some change, to make you think about me during your nights in exile, your nights in hiding.
I guess I'll never know, now.
I suppose it doesn't matter, really. I never wanted to cause you pain or anything of that sort; I just wanted to know if you loved me like I loved you. But I guess that's not the best way to say it. You wouldn't love in the same way that I do. But whatever your equivalent is, I hope I was in some way related. I tell myself that that's the only reason why things played out the way they did. I guess I just don't see any other reasonable explanation. Not that anything about us, about this, has ever been reasonable.
I don't know if I feel the same way about you that I did.
Before the war, there was a minimal chance that we could fight through everything that was expected of us. Maybe we would just ignore it, wrapped up in everything that we shouldn't have been doing, every emotion that we couldn't afford to feel. Still in school, it was easier to be oblivious to the world. But we graduated into a war, a war in which we both played parts, bigger pieces to a puzzle than any teenagers should have to be responsible for. You, the first death; me, the last.
It wasn't how I thought it would be, the war. I had unfounded and romantic ideas about fighting, nursed on too many fairy tales and too many days locked in cupboards with white horses and chivalrous knights and beautiful princesses. Killing was like nothing I could have prepared myself for.
Thinking back on it, I'm surprised that Horcruxes are a banned subject, because I think I speak for everyone when I say that having your soul ripped apart is an experience not worthy of silence. It seemed in our war that not even children would be whole again.
You don't look the same anymore, both inside and out.
And I joined new communities today! Yay! Mostly stuff for William Moseley and Narnia. *sigh*