Erase and Rewrite (Dramione)

Eliminate and Resurrect

Everything is silent,
like the sounds are muted.

Nothing moves,
like someone paused the world.

He stares at her,
or what used to be her.
The shell lying on the floor is no more her than the pictures in the paintings are his ancestors.

She has left the room,
left the world.

But he can't believe it.
So he stands silent with the world
and waits for a sign of life.

A rise of her chest,
or a blink of her eye.
Anything to give away she's still here.
That there's still hope.

But the seconds tick,
and she's still lying there.
Her hazel eyes closed,
her wild hair partly on her face,
marred with her own blood.

The scar in her hand still dripping it,
blood,
crimson and pure.

Please,
He whispers in his mind
and finally briefly closes his eyes.
Please bring her back.

Because he has no idea what he's supposed to do now.

She has been nothing but an enemy, all these years at school.
He has never exchanged two civil words with her.

And yet...
No one ever knew what her mere presence was for him.

She was the crack in the white marble tiles of his bathroom.
She was the raindrop in a perfectly clear sunny day.
She was the splinter in his otherwise clear vision.
The imperfection in his perfect world.
The only thing that made him question all he had ever been taught.

But she has also been the candlelight in the pitch-black night.
The lighthouse calling for a boat in the dark sea.
A beacon in the distance,
telling him that not all was lost.

And now her fire was out.
He couldn't deal with it!

All these years,
ever since the Dark Lord rise again,
He had done everything that was asked of him.

Everything, from the stupid small things,
like stealing from the library
to the horrible deeds that can never be undone.
He had done them all because that was the only road he saw for himself.

But somewhere in the corner of his mind,
he had always hoped for them,
the golden trio and the order,
to prove his master wrong.

And she had been the shining star presenting his hope.
Because she was against everything the Dark Lord taught his followers to believe in.

Potter might be the chosen one,
but she was the evidence,
the reason the world even needed Potter in the first place.

He'd known it from the first time he saw her.
And he'd hated her for that.

Hated her with passion,
and yarned her all the same.

And now looking at her broken body on the floor,
he felt like he was going to die too.

Suddenly an image of her in the pile of bodies flashes his mind.
She shouldn't be burned like the other victims of the death eater rage.

She was too pure,
too important,
to be disposed of like all others.

She should be laid to rest somewhere with flowers in her hair
and the people who loved her around.

There was nothing else he could ever have given her,
but this he could give!

So he raises his wand
and casts a quick Stupefy to the only two persons in the room anymore,
his parents.

Like in slow motion his feet carry him to her body.
His hands pick her up,
only to notice she was way too thin to be healthy.