You and I? Impossible

Ordeal

Whatever flower you are,

when your time comes, you will blossom.

Before then

a long, cold night may pass.

Even from the dreams of the night, you will draw strength and nourishment.

So be patient with what happens to you

and cared for and love

without comparing yourself

or wanting to be another flower,

because there is no better flower than that.

Daisaku Ikeda.

I was outside the room, ready to enter.

Something made me back away as I wrapped the doorknob in my cold hands and glimpsed them.

It was her, crying desperately, in Harry's arms, because I have to leave, to save her and all.

Now I'm scared, scared of myself.

I saw them there, wrapped around each other, and I didn't feel anything. Just a suffocating feeling of emptiness.

Now I understand what hurts me.

It hurts me to see love around me.

I am learning that I have never really tried it, or only in a small part.

The king is surrounded.

-Hey-

She went back into the room, her head down so as not to meet her gaze.

Hermione raised her frail, frail hand to her, letting her know she needed her closeness.

The girl grabbed her without any more doubts.

She would have been better than them, their behaviour.

- We'll get him out of the way, I promise -

she said stroking her weak wrist.

The trembling of her lip was getting more and more insistent.

Her pupils are tortured by agony and inner evil.

She let a tear slip down her left cheek.

-Brand your sword and fight, soldier.-

A strange voice invaded her mind.

She, the damn slimy voice.

He was helping her, for some unrelated reason.

For what purpose?

————————————————————————

All those damned nights I locked myself in my room with my piano to cover my parents' cries.

Then just shattered glass, followed by a hate-filled silence, ready to burst again and again.

And I kept playing, letting tears cover my entire face, non-stop.

I just wanted to disappear and destroy whoever was causing this.

I opened my mouth and screamed, screamed until I dropped, but not even a soft hiss escaped my innocent lips.

They piled on top of each other until they rotted.

The tower has been taken.

I'm broken inside.

Fragments no longer bind to each other.

They are pulverized.

Only old and bitter memories.

——————————————————————

- Please close the door dear -

She sat down, surrounded by silence for a few moments.

- You're probably wondering why I'm providing you with so few footholds and help-

She nodded.

-I have extreme faith in you and in the skills you have learned in this period; you proved to be far stronger than anyone else, far stronger than me at your age..., I let myself be bribed by flattery, promises of an unimpeded life-

She stood up, in extreme monotony.

- Sir, I don't feel anything about it :

no worries, no fear. -

He wanted to tell her it was normal.

Anyone in her position would have felt terror at the very thought of being stuck in the past or even killed.

- This could be an advantage.

Don't forget, you will never be alone in all this-

She nodded and took her leave.

- I will be -

———————————————————————-

Deep night.

He, a boy, shaped by love and raised by death.

He kept watching over her, stroking her hair at the hairline of her forehead.

Fragile, thin, lost, worn out.

When he finally could have her for himself they tried to take her away.

He felt her slip from under his throbbing fingers.

Moving away, losing heat, perceiving confused words.

And then a voice he knew well, soaked in pain from blood, screeched like a mortally wounded creature.

One by one, they all faded away.

One piece of the chain would be snatched away by death, the other by time.

Kaytlyn.

A jar filled with black liquid.

Had they dedicated time to each other? Yes.

Had they treated their wounds? Yes

Had they loved each other?

Some would say yes, others no.

There would be no tomorrow if she failed.

Sometimes Dumbledore found himself thinking how wrong that choice could be, but right at the same time.

How much they were risking having a dual enemy.

The devil does not appear dressed in red or with horns,

it comes in the form of what we have always wanted.