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Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by ButterflyRogue
Chapter 2 : no doubt, I'll always go back to you
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 1

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prompt 03: language

[no doubt in my mind]

Word count: 486

Was it really so impossible for a smart, talented and altogether rather attractive young woman to fall in love with a werewolf? Clearly, a belief many found entirely plausible. Including Remus himself.

He had made his biggest misjudgement then, completely underestimating her wonderful, un-prejudiced nature. Of course he was quite charmed by her, and quite early into their acquaintance, too. How could he not be? She was intelligent and interesting, laughed easily, spoke passionately and preferred to value people by their actions rather than their appearances. From the very moment she had found out about his lycanthropy, there was not a flicker of repulsion in her eyes, no forced tolerance or concealed discomfort at his presence, not even the slightest indication of resolved politeness that would wear off the moment he'd be out of sight, to be replaced with an expression of repugnance or disdain. She had simply seen it as something that just happened to be, another one of his features such as the colour of his eyes. One could easily see the appeal such a person would have to a man shunned and mistreated for the majority of his life.

With her, he could again talk freely, even joke about his condition, enjoying the wonders of unfeigned, sincere acceptance.

He should have put some distance between them the moment he realized his feelings started to go beyond merely friendly. But surely, there was no way she would ever look at him like that! So, why not allow himself this little pleasure, why not be selfish for once and remain in her vicinity whenever possible, listening to the sound of her voice, watching that pretty smile and imagining that maybe, were the circumstances different, she'd smile like that only for him. There was no harm in wishful thinking, no matter how impossible it seemed, was it? Of course, the dashed fantasies would leave him the only one suffering, once reality would strike. Or so he thought, so he firmly believed because how could someone like her-anyone at all-possibly love a hideous creature like him! He should have known better.

He had a wild urge to run away now. He had been foolish enough to let her in too close, but this is where he had to draw the line. His life was a difficult one. He would be going against his better judgement, against his own conscience, to condemn her as well to social rejection and marginalization. Voice firm, but his body language telling a rather different story, he approached Dumbledore about the underground mission they had talked about some weeks ago. Every part of his essence screamed against it, but this was the right thing to do-for the Order, for her, for everyone (everyone but him, she had said). Not leaving space for arguments, he turned to go, suppressing a shudder threatening to shake his entire frame. Dumbledore sighed as he watched him leave.

...the storms are raging on the rolling sea
and on the highway of regret
the winds of change are blowing wild and free
you ain't seen nothing like me yet...

Adele - Make you feel my love

prompt 04: sharp

[something always brings me back to you...]

Word count: 499

The shock of waking up to her entire appearance entirely unremarkable, had long since worn off. The frustration of not being able to modify her natural imperfections into something more acceptable still tinged somewhere within her, but she tried not to show it anymore. Her mousy-haired, murky-eyed, crooked-nosed, uneven-teethed reflection didn’t even look annoyed.

Dragging herself back into the bedroom, she carefully side-stepped a hand mirror she’d dropped the other night and had not yet cleaned up. It was not badly shattered, but the pieces were jagged and sharp-edged. She really needed to take care of it. It was dangerous to have it lying around.

The sun was bathing the room in iridescent glow. Yet her eyes focused on one thing only. Pure light seemed to have condensed in one of the corners, a tiny rainbow reflecting in a large silver wolf.

It didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would when, instead of a sprightly little ferret, the stately wolf leaped from the end of her wand for the first time. It was more of a shock when he started coming back. A patronus was but a reflection of its caster, supposed to do their bidding and then disappear. Her wolf would come back even after its task was completed, as if it had a mind of its own.

Her wolf. Somehow, she liked the sound of that. This magical imprint of her soul had changed its shape to further express its yearning, its deepest desire. It saddened and comforted her at the same time. She had no idea why it kept coming back, yet, somehow, she was grateful it did. Even though, with each appearance, it would only deepen the wounds his rejection and subsequent departure left.

Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, she slid to the floor. The wolf padded soundlessly towards her, its strangely beautiful head nuzzling her hand. The feeling was peculiar, like her hand was floating in pleasantly warm water.

You’ve such tender hands, he’d told her once. Small and delicate. Like a flower. With petals in different colours. She could still remember the exact shape of his smile as he traced each pink painted nail. She laughed along, told him he was being ridiculous. He’d responded he somehow didn’t mind, not with her. It was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.

Not paying attention, she pressed her hand against the broken mirror at her side. One of the shards had made a deep cut. Barely even wincing, she observed the injury with interest. Blood was running over a large palm, through long, clumsy fingers looking awkward, really, rather than elegant, glued to ridiculously tiny wrists. Tender hands.

The silver wolf disappeared as the first drops of blood seeped into the carpet. Her hand was throbbing by now. A tear slid down her face. Then another and another and a few more. And she knew that no physical pain could ever measure to the one he inflicted to her heart.

you hold me without touch
you keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much
than to drown in your love and not feel your reign...

Sara Bareilles - Gravity

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