|
Daffodils The sky was grey, soft rumbles of thunder threatening a storm. Minerva paid no attention, kneeling in the little out of the way patch of garden, among the flowers. Waiting. Wishing. Not that she hadn't heard his plans--- but that they hadn't existed. No wonder he kept her away from his Slytherin friends--- he'd known she could never condone such a thing. She had wondered, sometimes, if it meant that he didn't care for her in truth. And knowing now, as she did, she had to wonder if she were simply another layer of his disguise... or if he had kept his secrets precisely because he loved her? But either way, she'd found out, despite his best efforts. The secret sneering laughter and the unholy glee--- words like Mudblood and purge sticking in her mind.... And the name they'd called him--- Lord Voldemort. It sent shivers down her spine. No. She could have borne much, for him. But this was intolerable. And what hurt the most was that she knew, at some level... that she'd known all along. Known, and clung to her disbelief. A sound made her look up. Tom--- come to find her as she knew he would. He ducked through the break in the bushes, straightened: a tall young man, with soft dark hair combed just so and green eyes that could twinkle with laughter or darken with intensity. Fine strong face and lean upright body--- Perfect. On the outside. And a mind to match, or she'd never have loved him. But not a heart to match either. Of that she was certain. He smiled at her--- oh, that practiced smile, that she could never quite know the truth of! His best disguise.... Then he met her eyes, and the smile began to fade. Wordlessly crossed the steps to her side, looking down at her. He knew. She looked away, desperate for something to say. "The daffodils look lovely today---" gesturing at the flowerbed in front of them. In the distance, the first bolt of lightning crackled form cloud to cloud, the echo of thunder following it a moment later. Silence--- then of a sudden he dropped to his knees at her side. Green eyes on brown, dark and intense. Pain in his, though his face was otherwise mostly impassive. He took her chin in his hand, stroked her cheek, still with that terrible earnest look in his eyes. Yes, he knew. Then, slowly, steadily, he bent to her, and touched his mouth to hers. Slow gentle kiss, earnest and serious, gentle brushing of their lips, and helplessly, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him as he folded her tenderly in his. And, oh, if he drew her down with him, down to the soft grass and the warmth of his arms--- she would not refuse him. And after... after, he would lead her back to the castle, and there would be no arguments and no turning back. He knew this, and she did. But he made no move to do so. The threatened rain finally broke, splashing the couple with its first fat drops, the lightning blazing the sky above them, thunder a deep dangerous rumble. But they did not part at once. At last, though he drew back from her, resting his hands on her shoulders, gently. Rose up to one knee, and held out his hand in silent invitation. She regarded him for a moment, knowing it was more than the offer of an escort and shelter from the storm. And she clasped her hands in her lap, and very deliberately looked down at them. Silence for a long moment, then, wordlessly, he got to his feet and turned back, heading for the castle. For a long time after he'd gone, she sat in the garden among the daffodils
as the rain came down like tears.
|