I still remember FINISHED

Mary-Jane Griffoendor · Geplaatst: Wo Jun 30, 2004 18:37

The girl is my own character, the others belong to JK Rowling.
This story is from the point of view of Draco Malfoy (or another deatheater, whatever you want)

I still remember

I still remember.
I remember the war. The battlefield was soaked with innocent blood. At the end of the day there was nothing anymore. Nothing that had a sense of life. I saw your sword, standing in the dark ground. The begin of your end. You laid next to it. Blood dripped from your face and glued to the black sand of the earth.
I saw you and your pale cheeks. Your lips were red, red of the blood you drunk, red of screaming with anger and hate. You were one with the earth, the wind, the water and the fire.
You overran those people with your fury. Your flaming eyes and your sword. You burned their souls with your force, you let them burn in Hell for the crime they committed, they touched you, angel of God, and they’d pay for it. They touched you with their fists, with weapons, with their spells. And they died.
You were everywhere on the battlefield, you were the sand in their eyes. Your screams made them all scared. Scared to death.
You were the soft breeze that made them stop fighting, you made them wondering about who was Good and who was Bad. You were the thunderstorm that made them fall, fall without mercy. They fell on the ground, broken and one with the dark earth.
But you fell too. A dark-haired man behind you had token his wand and had fired a spell towards you. A green light made you look in wonder what had happened. The others, screaming and cheering, ran to you and took their weapons. Swords, stakes, spears, all of those things found a way to your body. They couldn’t use their wands because you had destroyed them. You didn’t scream, you just closed your eyes and cried tears of blood. You fell.
I still remember.
I remember you were laying there, next to your sword. Your dress as white as snow. Your hair, red of blood, but in normal situations fiery brown. Your face was pale, too pale. Your eyes weren’t gold-green anymore.
I saw a woman running towards you. The dead bodies of the men and children made her slow down, she couldn’t bear this cruelty. But she ran towards you and your sword. Her blonde hair waving in the wind, her dress, blue as the night, dancing with the dark clouds, filled with rain. Her feet found a way to your lost presence.
She fell on her knees and took you in her arms. A man followed her. Hate burned in his eyes. He hated you. His beard was red, red of blood. He had fought too. The woman whispered, words of sorrow and regret. Her hands flew over your body, your face and your hair. She couldn’t believe you were one of them. One of them who fought without regret for the lives they destroyed. She cried, tears of water.
The dark-haired man rose on his both feet and watched the woman. His green eyes narrowed but the man with the beard said: ‘It’s called love that made her cry. Not affection for the Bad side.’ The dark-haired man nodded.
You didn’t move and she saw your eyes. Dark and blind. Blood dripped on her dress, but she didn’t notice. Her tears fell on your face and washed away the blood. ‘Why didn’t you run, my dear?’ she cried and held your face close to hers, expecting you’d answer. But you didn’t answer. You laid in her arms, staring to the dark clouded sky through blank eyes. Some crows sung a funeral song to you.
I saw your face, pale and lifeless. Your staring eyes, opened in surprise. She let you slip and bowed her head. The dark-haired man met my gaze and frowned. The man with the long beard looked up and took his wand. The dark-haired man whispered my name. I looked him the eyes, noticing his eyes were green, but I liked your green eyes more. I still like them, you know. I turned and walked away, leaving you all alone on the battlefield. You weren’t really alone, but when I looked to the clouded sky and your sword, I knew in my heart that you were alone. And that you didn’t mind it.
In my mind I saw you standing in the middle of the dead people, sword in your hand and your hairs, flying on the wind. Your white dress glowing in the dark, as you were an angel. Your pale face and burning eyes. I saw you standing there, like you weren’t laying in the woman’s arms.
The woman turned to the dark-haired man and cried. Her tears were warm, warmer than your body. Her hands were stroked with blood, so red as red could be. Your blood. She cried and kept on crying. She knew she couldn’t made it undone, she knew you’d be lifeless forever.
I walked away, lost in thoughts about you, but I still remember. I still remember your fury, the flames in your gold-green eyes. You were the earth, the wind, the water and the fire. You were the breath of the Bad side, you were their angel. For the woman you were her fallen angel. For me you were my angel of love. Your eyes, gold-green, I will never more see. When I looked behind my shoulder I saw you, laying next to your sword. Your eyes staring to the sky.
The woman cried more and more and sunk to the ground.
The men looked at her with regret. The man with the beard took her in his arms and carried her away. His eyes were clouded and he whispered.
The sky was moving, the clouds yawned and it started to rain. Droplets fell on your face, your clothes and your sword.
The man with the green eyes looked at you and shook his head. He walked away, leaving you all alone on the battlefield. Heaven cried for their lost angel, laying there, next to her sword. The sky was dark and the rain was cold. The water fell on your frozen body and on your eyes. Your eyes, dark and blind, staring to the clouds, staring to your home. You laid there in the red mud, your eyes blind and your lips frozen in time. Your white dress, glowing and so soft as your skin. Your sword next to you. You were fallen.
I walked back, soft and almost unheard. I saw your body, lifeless and I saw your eyes. The wind whispered and I softly heard your voice. You were the wind, the earth, the water and the fire. I sunk on my knees and touched your face. Your white dress was stained with blood and tears. I buried my face in your hair and tried to smell you, but I only smelled the blood. Your lips weren’t red anymore, but white. White as the dead tree in my backyard. Our backyard.
I remembered you, sitting near the dead tree and laughing. Your fiery brown hair, waving a cheerful good morning to me. The flame in your gold-green eyes lifted my heart and made me smile in wonder. I believed you were sent by God, one of his most precious angels to make us all feel sorry for our deeds. Your white dress, one with the wind and the water. It was raining and you didn’t mind it.
I came back to reality and looked into your eyes. You were gone. Your lips were dead, dead as the tree where you once sat near. I remember how I held you in my arms, warming your body, knowing that it wouldn’t matter.
Suddenly the earth started moving and I looked behind me. A man walked towards me, or no, towards you. I still remember his face. Pale and skinny, with red eyes. Eyes of a snake. He wanted to take your sword but it was one with the dark sand. He couldn’t take it. He looked me in the eyes, but he didn’t say anything.
He looked around and saw the battlefield. He saw you, laying next to your sword, he saw the dead wizards, he saw their weapons, he saw the dark clouded sky and he saw me. He returned his attention to you. I held you in my arms, I didn’t want to let you go. The rain poured down on my face, on your face and on his face.
The water washed our sorrow away. It washed the blood away, it soaked into the dark sand and cleaned everything. It cleaned your white dress, your face, your eyes and your sword.
The man fell on his knees, his face covered with droplets. I remember I wondered if those droplets on his face were droplets of the rain or tears. I looked him in the eyes, but he didn’t see me. He raised his hand and laid it on your face. No word was spoken, but regret swallowed the air and made me suffering. Tears burned in my eyes, clouded as the sky.
I still remember the people who came and went. They all came to see you, laying there on the battlefield. They saw him, the one with the red snake-eyes, but they didn’t scream. He didn’t see them, he stared to you. Your eyes, dark and blind, your lips, frozen in time, your face, white as snow. He knew he had lost this war. He had lost his most loyal servant. The rain poured down and kept on washing everything away.
I remember you, you were the earth, the wind, the water, the fire. Your fury, your sword and your white dress. You were a thunderstorm, but on that moment you were the soft breeze of sorrow and regret.
I remember I carried your body. I walked through the burning cities. I walked, with you in my arms. Your white dress waved on the wind, your arm reached for the ground, lifeless. Your face faced the people who froze and bowed their head. Your eyes kept on staring to the sky, the pouring rain and your home.
I saw the people of the ‘Good side’. They looked at me, staring at the one I carried. Your face rolled over to my chest, like your body was searching for a little bit warmth. I sunk on my knees in the street and faced all the wizards and witches there. Tears streamed over my cheeks and fell on your face. Your hair touched the ground of stone and so did your hand. Slowly I let you go.
The man with the beard was near, walked towards me and looked me in the eyes. His lips moved, but he didn’t say a thing. His blue eyes saw you, he saw you like I saw you. He saw a girl, laying on the cold way of stone, a girl with blank eyes, staring to the nothing. A girl with a white dress, white as snow. A girl with a pale face and frozen lips, frozen in time and surprise.
The dark-haired man raised and his eyes flickered. ‘It was because of love,’ I whispered, almost unheard.
You laid there, all alone. Your lifeless body screaming for the earth, not for stone. Your blind eyes screaming for the sky, not for faces who kept on staring at you. Your white dress longing for the pouring rain, the wind and your lips longing for the cries of deaths.
The man with the red snake-eyes followed me and walked towards you. His eyes were clouded and he took you in his arms. He thanked me for caring about you and trying to save you. His most loyal servant. His voice was hard and cold. Cold as stone, cold as ice. Cold as your body.
Your body longed for the battlefield, where you fought and died. I grabbed the man’s arm and whispered: ‘The battlefield.’ He nodded, he could feel it. Your blind eyes seemed filled with tears of loneliness. Your white dress whispered and the wind came to blow our tears away.
The dark-haired man screamed, fired a spell and the man with the red snake-eyes fell. He touched the ground and let you slip out of his arms. I reached for you, comforted your lifeless body. The man screamed in anger and raised on his both feet. His red eyes burned.
Your body cried, cried ghostly tears. I felt it and I bowed my head, smelling the blood in your hair. You were screaming silent. Somewhere inside I felt something bleed and I realised it was my heart. I looked to the dark-haired man with the green eyes and whispered: ‘Murderer...’
I carried your body back to the battlefield, covered by screams of the ones who fought again. Slowly I walked back with you in my arms. I felt your cold body, your white dress, waving in the wind.
Far away I saw your sword, covered by rain. Your sword, standing in the dark mud, cold and powerful. I laid you next to it, carefully. I gave you to the earth, giving you peace. I sunk to my knees and bowed my head in despair. Your white dress laid on the dark mud, but stayed white. Your pale face seemed a little bit lightened. Your hair was dark, so dark as the night. Your eyes saw the sky, staring blankly.
In the castle the man with the red snake-eyes fought and killed your murderer. Soon after your murderer died, he just sunk down the way of stone and never more woke up. It was over, they said. The war was over.
I left you there, laying next to your sword. The sky was red, red as blood. The dark mud became sand, and the droplets on your sword became ice. Your body became stone. Wind, earth, water and fire. Forever you’d rest there, on your battlefield, next to your sword.
...I still remember...

**BeeGee Kenobi** · The Lost Mod Verdiend: 0 Sikkels Woonplaats: Birmingham

Looks like this is a finished Fanfic..

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