shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-01-08 01:00:00 |
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Epitaph for Two Friends - H/R - PG
Title: Epitaph for Two Friends
Author:shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words : 500
Rating: PG
Written for the only person who’d care,rosina_alcona, it is something of a ‘missing moment’ during the Second Task in Goblet of Fire, but no-one else need read it.
Epitaph for Two Friends
They were two friends, whose life was undivided.
So let them mingle. Sweetly they had glided
Under the grave. Let not their dust be parted,
For their two hearts in life were single-hearted.
****
Harry had never been so scared. So he’d faced Voldemort, spiders, basilisks and escaped murderers. He’d been pumped full of adrenaline each time, and he’d been able to fight.
But they’d taken Ron. The thing he’d miss most? Well, yes, of course. They’d taken Ron and he had felt scared, small and helpless. He knew he’d looked ridiculous wading into the lake, but he didn’t care. The thing he cared for most was lost at the bottom of the lake.
And then he’d seen Ron, tied up and helpless. His head lolling to one side and his hair swirling around his face as the water pulsed past him. The water that felt alive, that swarmed with angry looking mermen, the water that would take Ron from him if he didn’t hurry up.
His webbed fingers had been clumsy holding the sharp stone, but he’d hacked at the thick slimy robes, and sobbed lungfulls of water as he struggled to free him. The thing he’d miss most.
Ron had floated free, his beautiful hair dulled by the dark water, his skin green-tinged. But Harry hadn’t been able to just leave the other hostages and he had wasted valuable time trying to free them. Risking Ron’s life? Krum and Cedric had taken their hostages and gone, and Harry had grabbed hold of the little girl and had held Ron by the neck of his robes, feeling his cold throat against his fingers, not feeling a pulse.
And he’d kicked hard for the surface. So far above him. Felt his legs burning from the strain; felt his neck burn as his gills disappeared; felt his lungs flood with water and his head swim with lack of oxygen.
And then he’d seen him. A slim, pale figure, with dark brown wavy hair and deep blue eyes. He was obviously a ghost, but Harry didn’t recognise him. The figure bobbed closer and looked down at Ron, still unconscious in Harry’s grasp.
Harry was dizzy and the water was flooded with light – whether from being close to the surface or close to death, he couldn’t tell.
“You love him,” the figure said, laying one ghostly hand on Ron’s hair, now scarlet in the dazzling light. In his other hand was a volume of poetry, which he clutched to his chest, the name Aeschylus clearly visible on the cover.
Harry frowned, confused.
“My lover and I drowned,” the figure said mournfully, “before I could tell him that I loved him. I’ll never see my Edward again, because he didn’t know I needed him to stay. You love your friend, and you must tell him. You must tell him.”
Harry nodded and gave one last kick as the water poured into his mouth and their heads broke the surface.
And it was OK. Ron was OK. He was exasperated with Harry for acting the hero, but he was holding him tightly and Harry realised that the ghostly poet was right. He couldn’t risk losing Ron by not telling him.
Title: Epitaph for Two Friends
Author:
shocfixPairing: Harry/Ron
Words : 500
Rating: PG
Written for the only person who’d care,
rosina_alcona, it is something of a ‘missing moment’ during the Second Task in Goblet of Fire, but no-one else need read it.Epitaph for Two Friends
They were two friends, whose life was undivided.
So let them mingle. Sweetly they had glided
Under the grave. Let not their dust be parted,
For their two hearts in life were single-hearted.
****
Harry had never been so scared. So he’d faced Voldemort, spiders, basilisks and escaped murderers. He’d been pumped full of adrenaline each time, and he’d been able to fight.
But they’d taken Ron. The thing he’d miss most? Well, yes, of course. They’d taken Ron and he had felt scared, small and helpless. He knew he’d looked ridiculous wading into the lake, but he didn’t care. The thing he cared for most was lost at the bottom of the lake.
And then he’d seen Ron, tied up and helpless. His head lolling to one side and his hair swirling around his face as the water pulsed past him. The water that felt alive, that swarmed with angry looking mermen, the water that would take Ron from him if he didn’t hurry up.
His webbed fingers had been clumsy holding the sharp stone, but he’d hacked at the thick slimy robes, and sobbed lungfulls of water as he struggled to free him. The thing he’d miss most.
Ron had floated free, his beautiful hair dulled by the dark water, his skin green-tinged. But Harry hadn’t been able to just leave the other hostages and he had wasted valuable time trying to free them. Risking Ron’s life? Krum and Cedric had taken their hostages and gone, and Harry had grabbed hold of the little girl and had held Ron by the neck of his robes, feeling his cold throat against his fingers, not feeling a pulse.
And he’d kicked hard for the surface. So far above him. Felt his legs burning from the strain; felt his neck burn as his gills disappeared; felt his lungs flood with water and his head swim with lack of oxygen.
And then he’d seen him. A slim, pale figure, with dark brown wavy hair and deep blue eyes. He was obviously a ghost, but Harry didn’t recognise him. The figure bobbed closer and looked down at Ron, still unconscious in Harry’s grasp.
Harry was dizzy and the water was flooded with light – whether from being close to the surface or close to death, he couldn’t tell.
“You love him,” the figure said, laying one ghostly hand on Ron’s hair, now scarlet in the dazzling light. In his other hand was a volume of poetry, which he clutched to his chest, the name Aeschylus clearly visible on the cover.
Harry frowned, confused.
“My lover and I drowned,” the figure said mournfully, “before I could tell him that I loved him. I’ll never see my Edward again, because he didn’t know I needed him to stay. You love your friend, and you must tell him. You must tell him.”
Harry nodded and gave one last kick as the water poured into his mouth and their heads broke the surface.
And it was OK. Ron was OK. He was exasperated with Harry for acting the hero, but he was holding him tightly and Harry realised that the ghostly poet was right. He couldn’t risk losing Ron by not telling him.