#userkingscross

he didn't expect it to hurt so much — death, that is. it was supposed to be like falling asleep: a swirling vortex of black and purple shades; instead there are hollow corpses clutching at his robes, his limbs, cracking his jaw open to wear him as a second skin.

his farewell letter, a final act of defiance — perhaps small, and regulus came here to die but not without hope for the future.

even at the break of his bones, the teeth that ghosted over his jaw, he remained brave. terror only seized him as the corpse approached with one final whisper:

/at the return of eternal darkness — at the return of eternal darkness/ a promise, a warning of what comes after lord voldemort's fall at the hands of his match. regulus could see the outlines of the future carved in the concave belly of the inferi and this prophecy goes unheard. there was only silence.

/ləˈkjuːnə/  (n.)

i. & it hurts. ithurtsithurtsithurts because the rain feels like shrapnel & the stars taste like old blood & the ringing in his ears sounds like a grenade -

ii. & he remembers only frayed lungs hacked blue and cold bones in his bed -

iii. & the ghosts in his chest plant dead flowers in the crevices along his spine / each decaying segment a gravestone / & names scratched deep into the marrow / each calling blood to his hands -

iv. & he chokes on moonlight, screams “is this what you call salvation?”

- homecoming pt.3 ( j )

drabble: lightning era

word count: 933

the sundown series. night three.

there were many things harry wanted to leave behind, after the war. there were so many times when his heart would just plummet at the sight of an object, robbed of its use.

there were too many things that would cause of rush of tears with just a second look.

because the war took its toll on the wizards and witches, and most fled away without batting an eyelash.

but the ones who stayed didn’t really stay because too many things had changed and home wasn’t really home anymore.

a look at ron would remind harry of the countless times his best friend had risked his life for him, back to the days of being eleven again— and the feeling of being eleven never really left harry. the undeniable emotion of loneliness crept in and somehow harry felt like he had lost everything even when he knew he had nothing in the first place. and some days ron would offer a sandwich or a cup of tea to his best friend while in their months of being twenty, and all of a sudden there’s this pain in ron’s chest because everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from him.

a look at hermione would remind ron of how everyone had fought through their battles and found a shed of light along the way, just enough to reach the end of their journey. he wondered what guided fred into that light— what had held fred with that much love; enough for him to get away? but hermione was there to comfort him, to slowly mend the broken pieces of his heart with just the touch of her fingers. the times when hermione laced her hands into ron’s felt like being seventeen again; the butterflies in her stomach that had never left. and she, too felt like everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from her.

a look at harry would remind hermione of how some warriors fought in battles they never wanted; the battles what were etched upon their skin and engraved in their bones. how everything happened for a reason, and how a butterfly from long ago could cause a hurricane, a hurricane strong enough to drown out even the brightest of stars. and one day hermione passed by draco malfoy, and even she wondered if the gods above liked to play cruel games with the mortals below. but draco held his head up high, his stride fast and paced; this burning sensation constantly gnawing away at his arms, the eagerness to run far, far away from here. he decided when the glares were too harsh and the whispers were too loud that everything was all the same when too much had been stolen from him.

a look at neville would remind draco of how good things come to those who believed, believed in the people they loved and believed in the good causes they fought for. a look at neville would create this underlying feeling of envy and cold-blooded emptiness because draco too, could have had that but he had no way out. but he did. he took the coward’s way out. he accepted his fate, when neville fought and fought and finally he received what he deserved. and on any other day when draco passed by any other young man with unruly, windswept jet-black hair, he felt his heart leap out of his throat, because he wished he could turn-back time and go back. go back to where it all started, and change everything. because he knew, he too deserved redemption.

a look at draco would remind luna of how the moon rises, just to reflect the sun’s light. luna relived the past, over and over, wishing eternally that she could have done something more; more to help out her friends she knew were hurting so much on the inside. the times when her eyes would glaze over the thestrals, her eyes darkening when she sees the other students flinch for the first time because she too, understood. but finally she realized that somethings were meant to be, that the gods were telling them something when draco apologized, when hermione forgave, when ron stepped up, when neville held out his hand, when harry had this unforgettable look in his eyes as the sun fell below the horizon, his hands reaching out towards the light, finally free of whatever held him back.

a look at luna would remind neville to continue being fascinated in the wonders of the world, the ways of the people and the emotions of the unwanted. how everyone could get better and become even stronger through hardships and a lending hand from another friend. because like luna said, the gods were telling the mortals something. that whatever happened throughout their journey carved another road to their destination, uncovering another brilliance they would have never discovered otherwise. and neville wanted to thank the gods, he wanted everyone to realize that everything happened for a reason because it was meant to be.

what was meant to be is what created you, meaning that the stardust in your veins shined a radiance unbeknownst to your own because you were chasing sun; soaring in vibrancy, constantly. and the sun was just a giant star, and soon you will be too, with the rest of the world chasing you forward.

and neville wished that everyone knew that.

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