senseforachange
He speaks. The words and phrases rush past my ears, brushing past my lobes, through the inside of my head, but never quite reaching a point of understanding. I can hardly bring myself to breathe in regular intervals, let alone process the words coming out of his mouth. I can't relate to a single word. I can't understand. I can't hear.
I was incapable of it. Love. That one little word that everything used to revolve around. It used to be so important - to love, to show love, to be loved. It's a concept that dropped off the face of the earth along with the population numbers. We could lust, of course - the attraction was still there. But we could no longer love. We couldn't afford such an absurdity. We didn't have time.
There had been exactly 3026 false alarms in the past month alone. But this time, for once, no one had predicted it. Not even I had known they were coming. By the time I reached the front door, the orbs had already started to fall, lighting up the night sky like candles on a first date.
She was holding me when she died. At this point in my life, I had already lost my sight, and her touch was all I knew. She held me in her arms until they took her away - no time for final goodbyes, no time for tears. I knew they only had a few minutes to harvest.
Now, when people see me, they say I have my mother's eyes. They don't know how right they are.
My father tells me that the stars don't exist, that they are just figments of my imagination. He says that the Ancients fed us countless lies, that the night sky never held anything worth the slightest bit of wonder. But I refuse to believe that they aren't real, simply out of the need for something greater. If the stars don't exist, what else can I believe in?
the world had once been awe-inspiring. the mountain views, the treetops that stretched as far as the eye could see, the light from the stars reflected in the eyes of the only person with whom i could share this unforgettable moment. but it's all gone now. it all washed away as soon as the war started. we would never again look upon that same night sky - we would never again be filled with such a profound sense of wonder.
harry wasn't going home. not really. i wasn't either. whether i liked it or not, whether i was prepared or not, hogwarts had become my home. the ghosts had become my friends, my teachers had become my mentors. the cot i had slept in for so long would never equate to the four-poster bed that always waited for me, warm and inviting, just a few steps away from the glow of the common room fireplace.