Title: The Seasons
Challenge: Rite of Spring Challenge
Length: 4 X 100 (apologies, but only the last paragraph contains both implied characters. I humbly accept the deduction of points)
Team: Death Eaters
A/N: As usual, I can’t follow a challenge format to save my life. Don’t own the characters. No beta, and it shows!
Summer was torture. It made him too aware of his pale, skinny limbs, poking from oversized hand-me-down shorts. His mother forced him to play outside, telling him the ‘fresh air and sunshine will do you good.’
He would return home, flash-burned from the sun and the ridicule of the other children who called him names, like ghost and vampire and freak.
He would wander up to his room, and in the night, when the sunburn and the humiliation kept him awake, he would dream that he was powerful. He would dream he was handsome. He would dream he could fly.
He used to despise autumn for its shifting colours and its smoky air. Autumn held the tinge of betrayal and death. During the month of October, he donned the garments of torture; cilices, hairshirt, crown of thorns. His vestments of repentance were worn from the inside out, and inflicted more pain than their corporeal counterparts could ever hope to match.
Autumn held no hope for redemption. No amount of pain, no amount of tears, no amount of ‘sorry’ were ever enough; even after his two Masters were dust, and he came back empty handed from the dead, the resurrected hero.
Winter’s frost permeated his bones with a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. It was the frozen part of his soul that felt encased in ice, never to warm again.
Warmth came in the shape of her, his former student; blazing, protective. It caught him unawares, a testimony to her skills. She warmed him from the inside out. In her arms he knew fiery passion and balmy acceptance; cool comfort and nurturing contentment. He longed for change. She gave him renewal.
Like an early thaw, there came the gradual realisation he could love and be loved in return.
When Spring came, the flowering buds that had once taunted him were beautiful. He rose from a bed of white linen and stared out into a sun-kissed dawn that made him feel as if this was his true resurrection. He curled around the soft form nestled against him. Her sleepy sound delighted him. Her swollen belly was unspeakably beautiful.
He smiled, refreshed and grateful for the dormant seasons of his life, when he’d looked forward to nothing more than the change of light and weather. She made him believe he was handsome. She made him fly. She renewed the seasons.