Post by McGonagallsGirl on Jun 12, 2008 0:49:15 GMT -5
This little one shot exists... I guess, sort of beyond the Harry Potter world... Or maybe just deep within it? It exists on it's own, I'll just say that. 
It reminds me of the sort of thing I wrote before books 6 and 7 came out, back when we shippers had slight notions of fear but nothing to really stand upon.
Oh, and tell me if it's too difficult to read. I was worried about just throwing paragraphs at you and seeing if it took, and if it's no good I'll revisit the format ;D
Here ya go, Fresh meat for the lions:
__________________________________________________
The cold sun finally arose. She'd had no doubt that it would... somewhere inside. She wasn't certain that she was relieved, but it was at least dependable. That sun would rise and fall with regularity. She faltered once that morning, it was when she quietly demanded understanding. What right had that one star to be any more dependable... any more eternal than the man she had devoted her life to? Where did it get the nerve?
He kissed her and that's how she awoke that morning. The dawn was only just breaking. He confessed guilt, because he knew she needed to sleep very much but he had a longing to spend a quiet hour with her before leaving to the Great Hall for breakfast. She kissed him quickly and told him that it was perfectly fine. That she would rather be awake anyway, and that the idea of spending a stolen hour with him was perfectly thrilling to her. He got up and went into the drawing room to have some tea delivered. She stretched in the bed with a contented sigh. Her mind was on the morning but her heart, unbeknownst to her, was planning the rest of their lives.
The students stonily sat in their seats and waited. She had no particular emotion about them being in her classroom, she merely knew that they needed to be taught. So she wrapped her robes a bit tighter around her and took out her lesson plans. She began to teach, for there was nothing more she could do in that situation. She faltered once in the classroom that morning. It was when she glanced down at her teaching notes. His words right beside her words. Blue waves next to tidy green etchings. Her heart shattered again, for there was no other appropriate reaction. When she looked up, her students were still sitting, still waiting to be taught. So she opened her mouth to begin to speak. Blessedly, sound actually came out.
She moved with some spring in her step that morning. A certain briskness, a fire under her feet. It was clear to all students present that she was in a peculiarly playful mood. Playful considering it was their transfigurations professor, that was. Before the class time had halfway passed, he was standing in the back of the room. He watched with a particular twinkle in his eye as he saw her reference, only once, the teaching notes they had created together. Their ideas were starkly contrasting, yet strangely complimentary, and always immensely successful when blended together. The students never failed in surpassing their own expectations. Never once.
She took her lunch in his seat, as she was compelled to take all of her meals recently. She did not toy with her food as she would have done if she were merely distracted. Instead she ran her fingers over the arms of the chair she sat in, tracing the intricate patterns softly. She was remembering. The conversations of the students were hushed, almost always urgent and there was no frivolity in their manor to speak of. She certainly understood the sentiment. She faltered once in the Great Hall that afternoon. It was when she raised her eyes to the enchanted ceiling and saw reflected back to her a sky of particular, although decidedly colder, blue. She'd have known that shade anywhere. She reminded herself, more harshly than was necessary, that those eyes were now closed and could not gaze into her own. Would never do so again. She questioned the purpose of the existence of such a sky. It no longer united all the people of the world, now it's sole purpose was to remind her. Indeed, she was reminded.
He walked with her to lunch that day. He had met her in her classrooms, witnessed her teaching, and together they made their way to the Great Hall. She took her seat by his side, as ever. To her mind, there was no other place for her in all the world. They ate animatedly, with constant and lively discussion. They needed to raise their voices at one point, for the hall was so loud with various conversation. When the headmaster laughed his eyes danced, and it seemed to be infectious. Soon the entire hall was laughing, although each at their own jokes and none realizing the unity of their laughter. He took her hand discreetly, once. She couldn't stop her smile. Above, the enchanted ceiling shimmered down at them as clouds drifted lazily through the sky. None in the Great Hall noticed this, however, for all were devoted to their own companions.
She sat alone in her classroom as the afternoon became the dusk, grading essay after essay with a focused mind. The room grew quite dark, and at last she lit a candle. It flickered a moment, then it burned. The more parchment she graded, the more there seemed to be to grade. Quite soon the moon had risen and still she worked in silence. She faltered once that evening. It was when she noted, with a sudden and overwhelming sense of loss, that this grading in her classroom alone had become her escape. Once upon a time, you see, her escape had been his arms. He would have stopped her grading hours ago and brought her back to their room, where her memory told her the fire was always lit and the prevailing sensation was always safety. Always love. They might have danced through the twilight or fallen asleep together on the couch until dawn, it didn't matter. Because in any eventuality she would have been in his arms. She returned to the present hastily and with an unsteady breath, extinguished her solitary candle. The room was submerged into darkness and she cast her memories into that abyss, for they had no place in her current mind. They were once upon a time, very long ago.
They spent that evening walking along a well lit path near the lake. His arm was around her, hers around him, and together they slowly made their way towards the castle. Companionable silence was all that they desired, and they'd been operating on the same frequency for so long that they both simply knew. No words needed to be said, they simply knew. His attention was drawn, momentarily, to the lake they walked beside. He often worried about what would happen to her should he ever be lost. He understood her nature perfectly, and he had fears that she might destroy herself by neglecting to perform the most basic functions. Eating, sleeping, smiling, that sort of thing. He knew she had the strength... the ability to live a life without him. He simply wasn't convinced that she would. His greatest fears for her were the choices she would make if finally forced to put her needs above the needs of others because he might no longer be there to see to her needs for her. It would never occur to her, for instance, that she needed these walks by the lake, though she might spot it in another person in an instant. If ever he should leave her... he simply could not be certain. She caught him staring out across the lake and asked him the matter. He kissed the top of her head and drew her closer. He said that nothing was the matter and then he asked her of her day. As she told him, he thought to himself that if ever he should leave her... well, he simply never could.
That night she brushed her hair and braided it back. Her window was open and the draft that whistled through was awfully chilly. The castle had grown hush and the stars themselves were hiding. She hoped, despite herself, that they had found another love to shine upon. The house elves hadn't started the fire for her that evening, and she realized that she had forgotten to ask them to do so. There was no use sitting on the couch or reading any books. There was really nothing more for her to do but sleep. She faltered once that night. It was when she settled down in their bed and rested her hand where his chest should have been. But being who she was, no tears would fall. What was once a draft had become a howling wind, and she lay there, awake again for the entire night, remarking on the difference a single year could make.
They both sipped tea until the moon was high in the sky. The fire crackled invitingly at them. He caught her stifling a yawn, and so together they went to bed, after all he had awoken her so early that morning. Her hand was resting on his chest as she positioned herself as close to him as humanly possible. He took her hand and kissed it before replacing it in it's usual place. He ran his hand through her loose hair and she knew she could ask for nothing more, for there was nothing better. The stars winked at them from their place in the heavens, and he and she understood perfectly what it was that could cause such a glow. She kissed him again goodnight, simply because it put her even closer to him. They drifted off peacefully on that last night in May and the grounds of Hogwarts grew silent, for Albus and Minerva were sleeping.
It reminds me of the sort of thing I wrote before books 6 and 7 came out, back when we shippers had slight notions of fear but nothing to really stand upon.
Oh, and tell me if it's too difficult to read. I was worried about just throwing paragraphs at you and seeing if it took, and if it's no good I'll revisit the format ;D
Here ya go, Fresh meat for the lions:
__________________________________________________
The cold sun finally arose. She'd had no doubt that it would... somewhere inside. She wasn't certain that she was relieved, but it was at least dependable. That sun would rise and fall with regularity. She faltered once that morning, it was when she quietly demanded understanding. What right had that one star to be any more dependable... any more eternal than the man she had devoted her life to? Where did it get the nerve?
He kissed her and that's how she awoke that morning. The dawn was only just breaking. He confessed guilt, because he knew she needed to sleep very much but he had a longing to spend a quiet hour with her before leaving to the Great Hall for breakfast. She kissed him quickly and told him that it was perfectly fine. That she would rather be awake anyway, and that the idea of spending a stolen hour with him was perfectly thrilling to her. He got up and went into the drawing room to have some tea delivered. She stretched in the bed with a contented sigh. Her mind was on the morning but her heart, unbeknownst to her, was planning the rest of their lives.
The students stonily sat in their seats and waited. She had no particular emotion about them being in her classroom, she merely knew that they needed to be taught. So she wrapped her robes a bit tighter around her and took out her lesson plans. She began to teach, for there was nothing more she could do in that situation. She faltered once in the classroom that morning. It was when she glanced down at her teaching notes. His words right beside her words. Blue waves next to tidy green etchings. Her heart shattered again, for there was no other appropriate reaction. When she looked up, her students were still sitting, still waiting to be taught. So she opened her mouth to begin to speak. Blessedly, sound actually came out.
She moved with some spring in her step that morning. A certain briskness, a fire under her feet. It was clear to all students present that she was in a peculiarly playful mood. Playful considering it was their transfigurations professor, that was. Before the class time had halfway passed, he was standing in the back of the room. He watched with a particular twinkle in his eye as he saw her reference, only once, the teaching notes they had created together. Their ideas were starkly contrasting, yet strangely complimentary, and always immensely successful when blended together. The students never failed in surpassing their own expectations. Never once.
She took her lunch in his seat, as she was compelled to take all of her meals recently. She did not toy with her food as she would have done if she were merely distracted. Instead she ran her fingers over the arms of the chair she sat in, tracing the intricate patterns softly. She was remembering. The conversations of the students were hushed, almost always urgent and there was no frivolity in their manor to speak of. She certainly understood the sentiment. She faltered once in the Great Hall that afternoon. It was when she raised her eyes to the enchanted ceiling and saw reflected back to her a sky of particular, although decidedly colder, blue. She'd have known that shade anywhere. She reminded herself, more harshly than was necessary, that those eyes were now closed and could not gaze into her own. Would never do so again. She questioned the purpose of the existence of such a sky. It no longer united all the people of the world, now it's sole purpose was to remind her. Indeed, she was reminded.
He walked with her to lunch that day. He had met her in her classrooms, witnessed her teaching, and together they made their way to the Great Hall. She took her seat by his side, as ever. To her mind, there was no other place for her in all the world. They ate animatedly, with constant and lively discussion. They needed to raise their voices at one point, for the hall was so loud with various conversation. When the headmaster laughed his eyes danced, and it seemed to be infectious. Soon the entire hall was laughing, although each at their own jokes and none realizing the unity of their laughter. He took her hand discreetly, once. She couldn't stop her smile. Above, the enchanted ceiling shimmered down at them as clouds drifted lazily through the sky. None in the Great Hall noticed this, however, for all were devoted to their own companions.
She sat alone in her classroom as the afternoon became the dusk, grading essay after essay with a focused mind. The room grew quite dark, and at last she lit a candle. It flickered a moment, then it burned. The more parchment she graded, the more there seemed to be to grade. Quite soon the moon had risen and still she worked in silence. She faltered once that evening. It was when she noted, with a sudden and overwhelming sense of loss, that this grading in her classroom alone had become her escape. Once upon a time, you see, her escape had been his arms. He would have stopped her grading hours ago and brought her back to their room, where her memory told her the fire was always lit and the prevailing sensation was always safety. Always love. They might have danced through the twilight or fallen asleep together on the couch until dawn, it didn't matter. Because in any eventuality she would have been in his arms. She returned to the present hastily and with an unsteady breath, extinguished her solitary candle. The room was submerged into darkness and she cast her memories into that abyss, for they had no place in her current mind. They were once upon a time, very long ago.
They spent that evening walking along a well lit path near the lake. His arm was around her, hers around him, and together they slowly made their way towards the castle. Companionable silence was all that they desired, and they'd been operating on the same frequency for so long that they both simply knew. No words needed to be said, they simply knew. His attention was drawn, momentarily, to the lake they walked beside. He often worried about what would happen to her should he ever be lost. He understood her nature perfectly, and he had fears that she might destroy herself by neglecting to perform the most basic functions. Eating, sleeping, smiling, that sort of thing. He knew she had the strength... the ability to live a life without him. He simply wasn't convinced that she would. His greatest fears for her were the choices she would make if finally forced to put her needs above the needs of others because he might no longer be there to see to her needs for her. It would never occur to her, for instance, that she needed these walks by the lake, though she might spot it in another person in an instant. If ever he should leave her... he simply could not be certain. She caught him staring out across the lake and asked him the matter. He kissed the top of her head and drew her closer. He said that nothing was the matter and then he asked her of her day. As she told him, he thought to himself that if ever he should leave her... well, he simply never could.
That night she brushed her hair and braided it back. Her window was open and the draft that whistled through was awfully chilly. The castle had grown hush and the stars themselves were hiding. She hoped, despite herself, that they had found another love to shine upon. The house elves hadn't started the fire for her that evening, and she realized that she had forgotten to ask them to do so. There was no use sitting on the couch or reading any books. There was really nothing more for her to do but sleep. She faltered once that night. It was when she settled down in their bed and rested her hand where his chest should have been. But being who she was, no tears would fall. What was once a draft had become a howling wind, and she lay there, awake again for the entire night, remarking on the difference a single year could make.
They both sipped tea until the moon was high in the sky. The fire crackled invitingly at them. He caught her stifling a yawn, and so together they went to bed, after all he had awoken her so early that morning. Her hand was resting on his chest as she positioned herself as close to him as humanly possible. He took her hand and kissed it before replacing it in it's usual place. He ran his hand through her loose hair and she knew she could ask for nothing more, for there was nothing better. The stars winked at them from their place in the heavens, and he and she understood perfectly what it was that could cause such a glow. She kissed him again goodnight, simply because it put her even closer to him. They drifted off peacefully on that last night in May and the grounds of Hogwarts grew silent, for Albus and Minerva were sleeping.
