nekare

So, tonight's drabbles for queerditch_pub, even when I know I shouldn't be drabbling in there when I have so much things to write. Oh well, it was fun. I'm quite proud of these, actually.

This week's theme was Shakespeare. Both are dark-ish and a tad cruel. Deliciously cruel, I'd like to think, though. XD

One Last Second
Remus/Sirius - "The rest is silence" - 198 words.

Sleep…

The word echoes in Remus’ brain, thick and rich on his tongue as still-warm blood. The edges of reality are blurring, curling on themselves and leaving a sepia-colored frame around Sirius’ teary face. The snow beneath him is feeling warmer by the second, his skin becoming as white, blending with it; devoid of color, of hurting, of life.

Remus welcomes it, arms wide open and eyes shutting close languidly. He tries to laugh, but blood spills onto his lips, choking him, drowning him. He smiles, instead, and brings his right hand - the one that he’s still able to move - to his lips. Sirius is crying over him, trying to swallow back the sobs and failing.

Remus wipes his face, and long stripes of blood coat his cheek with Remus’ scarlet-colored life. Bloody tears, a religious fable of old times.

Sleep is calling him, Remus knows, tempting him with this colorful goodbye and one last look at the soon to die blue sky. A bird sings a requiem in his ear, and Sirius’ choked breathing becomes its tempo.

To rest is silence, and no sound can be heard in the snowy clearing as Remus dies slowly.


Kiss Me Goodbye
Harry/Draco - "Ophelia floats with violets twined in her hair" - 227 Words.

Ophelia floated with violets twined in her hair, long blond locks moving with the circular waves of a tear falling in the water, forget-me-nots resting by her hands and the blue, blue sky reflecting in her unseeing eyes.

She died, sweet on her tongue and madness in her heart; and Harry thinks it is only fair he grants Draco the same death as he persues him across Denmark. There’s poison on Harry’s lips the last time he kisses him, sultry and slow, and the bezoar in his stomach feels heavy as Draco’s eyes roll back into his head, lips still swollen and red in his too pale face.

The river he chooses is as still as a mirror, and as he lays Draco in the freezing water his eyes open slightly. He pants, confused, paralyzed, and Harry smiles sweetly at him as he caresses his forehead with one hand, and keeps Draco’s head above the water with the other. He showers Draco with petals, a thousand colors tainting with too late life the Death Eater robes and a blood red rose is tucked into his now-empty wand pocket.

Harry puts a finger to Draco’s trembling lips, and drinks from the veiled terror in his eyes. He blows him a kiss, a smile, death wrapped in innocent looking paper.

Forget me not, Harry says, and lets him drown.