Coral
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
51
Views:
2,668
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
51
Views:
2,668
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Confessions of the Soul
I can't fight this feeling any longer.
And yet I'm still afraid to let it show.
What started out as friendship,
Has grown stronger.
I only wish I had the strength to let it show.
I tell myself that I can't hold out forever.
I said there is no reason for my fear.
Cause I feel so secure when we're together.
You give my life direction,
You make everything so clear.
And even as I wander,
I'm keeping you in sight.
You're a candle in the window,
On a cold, dark winter's night.
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might.
And I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.
It's time to bring this ship into the shore,
And throw away the oars, forever.
Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.
And if I have to crawl upon the floor,
Come crushing through your door,
Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore---
-------------------------------------------
Nearly four months had passed by, and many cold inches had grown between Edward and Amanda.
It wasn't that Edward didn't want to comfort her, but for the longest time she was too uneasy, and could not be touched. She slept poorly, and any sudden movements pained her. When she tossed and turned it caused her to wake in a tearful fever. He had offered to move her into the second room, where she might be more comfortable on the soft feather mattress, but she refused. She didn't want to be alone, and desperately pleaded with him not to move bedrooms either.
The fact that she had quite shockingly burst into uncontrollable tears at his offer had unnerved him greatly as had her statement that she would leave if he wanted her too. Then she had apologized in near hysterics for her weakness, her stupidity, complicity, and ineptitude.
He had awkwardly try to reassure her that he did not blame her. It was a weak reply, but he couldn't manage to force out all of the bitter words he had to say against himself. He only told her he did not mind where she slept so long as she was comfortable, and the awkward silence continued for many weeks during which he berated himself daily for being such a fool.
He had doubted her.
He had not wanted to, but he had. He could blame Healer Withersmith, and his sly tones, for seeding rows of doubts, but he knew that he himself was wrong, and the thoughts he had harbored against her were unforgivable. If he had been a strong man himself, no words could have ever brought those doubts into his heart.
Even now, though he felt keenly the loss of the unborn children, and Amanda's grief, he could not deny a cold, steely edge in his nature that made him feel slightly relieved. Grateful to the tragedy that had at last allowed him to love her openly. To trust her. The memory of how that last pregnancy had come to be had always bothered him. It didn't seem right, to have one conceived in what he considered a moment of jealous passion. He had worried what markings such a child would bear, and whether or not he would ever be able to enjoy and accept it.
If someone accused him of being less than aggrieved over the child's death, he could not in all honesty, deny the claim. As ashamed as he was of these boiling emotions, he could not ignore it, though it caused him great guilt and agony. As they lay awake, night after night, he guilty and worried--and she grieving and anxious; the feelings grew like poison.
By the end of November the silence had reached a deafening crescendo, and he decided he could no longer continue. There was only one way to purge his soul, and he finally found the courage to face it as they lay awake, yet again, listening to the wind as it blew a heavy rain against the windows.
Steeling himself, he groped out with his hand, crossing the great linen divide between them, and touched...ever so gently,her shoulder.
And then, as though there had never been a moment of silence or doubt between them, she turned into his arms, and he gladly embraced her.
Hurriedly, before he lost courage, he began to confess himself.
-------------------------------------
Amanda listened, without speaking.
Her fingers coiled and uncoiled in his hair as she stared into the darkness, waiting as he apologized for having ever doubted her, for being cold to her, and for not admitting that he loved her. He told everything about Demogene, about the poisoned cakes, and Olivia's death. He told about Withersmith's accusation. He told the great relief he felt about her innocence, confessed how he had felt no grief for the loss of their second child.
Everything. Even though it sounded harsh, even though he hated himself for every word.
She was the judge, the jury, the witness. He gave her his soul and his heart ,and she took them with care, offering the only thing she could in return.
She gave forgiveness, then offered her own confession. She told about Hannigan, and how because of him she had decided love was impossible. She confessed that she had married him for the security it offered, not believing that she could ever love anyone. At least not love, as she thought she had felt it before. It seemed to him, such a petty offense next to his own that it made him guiltier.
Yet, it also made him more fond of her, thinking she was merely searching for a something to confess to make balance between them. It was partly true, she did feel the need to be honest and confess as well, but she did believe her crimes to be more wicked than his. She felt she had led him on, used him...caused him grief for no purpose.
Lastly she admitted to her worse crime; to feeling, since her fall, no grief. Only the unhappy feeling that he might dislike her now.
With these nasty truths about themselves finally released. She moved closer to him, pressing gratefully against his warmth. She had been so cold since the great blood loss she had experienced, and though a fire could warm her body, it could not reach the chilly recesses of her soul.
She confessed too that now, she was sure that she was in love, and that it felt much different for real. Much softer and warmer, like a light that reached all of the corners of the room, instead of just a brilliant, quick burning bulb in the center.
It was a new beginning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Twelve days later Demogene was found dead in her cell. It was discovered that she had been killed by some sort of slow strangling spell, that affected her throat from the inside, preventing her from making any noise.
The Wizard specialist that had been restoring her memories was found unconscious in his office, with a nice, solid, old-fashioned knot growing on the back of his head. He was actually quite devastated by the news. He had been almost finished with a restructuring the first of the lost memories. He was even more devastated to discover that the Pensieve into which the repaired memories had been stored, had been smashed, it's contents gone forever.
" What was the purpose in such an attack?" the specialist demanded, somewhat sadly.
Giles summed it up in a few words, later, over the chess board.
" Quite simple. Someone wanted those memories lost permanently." he captured Edward's queen." And what that means is, that a dangerous person is still amongst us, free--and utterly without conscience. Checkmate! "
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note---
This is the concluding chapter of Part One. For any phantom readers that might be interested, the story will continue. In part two the chapter titles are named for flowers, plants and trees that in someway symbolize some small part of the chapter.
Thanks for reading!
FairlightMuse
Can't Fight This Feeling---
REO Speedwagon
And yet I'm still afraid to let it show.
What started out as friendship,
Has grown stronger.
I only wish I had the strength to let it show.
I tell myself that I can't hold out forever.
I said there is no reason for my fear.
Cause I feel so secure when we're together.
You give my life direction,
You make everything so clear.
And even as I wander,
I'm keeping you in sight.
You're a candle in the window,
On a cold, dark winter's night.
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might.
And I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.
It's time to bring this ship into the shore,
And throw away the oars, forever.
Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.
And if I have to crawl upon the floor,
Come crushing through your door,
Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore---
-------------------------------------------
Nearly four months had passed by, and many cold inches had grown between Edward and Amanda.
It wasn't that Edward didn't want to comfort her, but for the longest time she was too uneasy, and could not be touched. She slept poorly, and any sudden movements pained her. When she tossed and turned it caused her to wake in a tearful fever. He had offered to move her into the second room, where she might be more comfortable on the soft feather mattress, but she refused. She didn't want to be alone, and desperately pleaded with him not to move bedrooms either.
The fact that she had quite shockingly burst into uncontrollable tears at his offer had unnerved him greatly as had her statement that she would leave if he wanted her too. Then she had apologized in near hysterics for her weakness, her stupidity, complicity, and ineptitude.
He had awkwardly try to reassure her that he did not blame her. It was a weak reply, but he couldn't manage to force out all of the bitter words he had to say against himself. He only told her he did not mind where she slept so long as she was comfortable, and the awkward silence continued for many weeks during which he berated himself daily for being such a fool.
He had doubted her.
He had not wanted to, but he had. He could blame Healer Withersmith, and his sly tones, for seeding rows of doubts, but he knew that he himself was wrong, and the thoughts he had harbored against her were unforgivable. If he had been a strong man himself, no words could have ever brought those doubts into his heart.
Even now, though he felt keenly the loss of the unborn children, and Amanda's grief, he could not deny a cold, steely edge in his nature that made him feel slightly relieved. Grateful to the tragedy that had at last allowed him to love her openly. To trust her. The memory of how that last pregnancy had come to be had always bothered him. It didn't seem right, to have one conceived in what he considered a moment of jealous passion. He had worried what markings such a child would bear, and whether or not he would ever be able to enjoy and accept it.
If someone accused him of being less than aggrieved over the child's death, he could not in all honesty, deny the claim. As ashamed as he was of these boiling emotions, he could not ignore it, though it caused him great guilt and agony. As they lay awake, night after night, he guilty and worried--and she grieving and anxious; the feelings grew like poison.
By the end of November the silence had reached a deafening crescendo, and he decided he could no longer continue. There was only one way to purge his soul, and he finally found the courage to face it as they lay awake, yet again, listening to the wind as it blew a heavy rain against the windows.
Steeling himself, he groped out with his hand, crossing the great linen divide between them, and touched...ever so gently,her shoulder.
And then, as though there had never been a moment of silence or doubt between them, she turned into his arms, and he gladly embraced her.
Hurriedly, before he lost courage, he began to confess himself.
-------------------------------------
Amanda listened, without speaking.
Her fingers coiled and uncoiled in his hair as she stared into the darkness, waiting as he apologized for having ever doubted her, for being cold to her, and for not admitting that he loved her. He told everything about Demogene, about the poisoned cakes, and Olivia's death. He told about Withersmith's accusation. He told the great relief he felt about her innocence, confessed how he had felt no grief for the loss of their second child.
Everything. Even though it sounded harsh, even though he hated himself for every word.
She was the judge, the jury, the witness. He gave her his soul and his heart ,and she took them with care, offering the only thing she could in return.
She gave forgiveness, then offered her own confession. She told about Hannigan, and how because of him she had decided love was impossible. She confessed that she had married him for the security it offered, not believing that she could ever love anyone. At least not love, as she thought she had felt it before. It seemed to him, such a petty offense next to his own that it made him guiltier.
Yet, it also made him more fond of her, thinking she was merely searching for a something to confess to make balance between them. It was partly true, she did feel the need to be honest and confess as well, but she did believe her crimes to be more wicked than his. She felt she had led him on, used him...caused him grief for no purpose.
Lastly she admitted to her worse crime; to feeling, since her fall, no grief. Only the unhappy feeling that he might dislike her now.
With these nasty truths about themselves finally released. She moved closer to him, pressing gratefully against his warmth. She had been so cold since the great blood loss she had experienced, and though a fire could warm her body, it could not reach the chilly recesses of her soul.
She confessed too that now, she was sure that she was in love, and that it felt much different for real. Much softer and warmer, like a light that reached all of the corners of the room, instead of just a brilliant, quick burning bulb in the center.
It was a new beginning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Twelve days later Demogene was found dead in her cell. It was discovered that she had been killed by some sort of slow strangling spell, that affected her throat from the inside, preventing her from making any noise.
The Wizard specialist that had been restoring her memories was found unconscious in his office, with a nice, solid, old-fashioned knot growing on the back of his head. He was actually quite devastated by the news. He had been almost finished with a restructuring the first of the lost memories. He was even more devastated to discover that the Pensieve into which the repaired memories had been stored, had been smashed, it's contents gone forever.
" What was the purpose in such an attack?" the specialist demanded, somewhat sadly.
Giles summed it up in a few words, later, over the chess board.
" Quite simple. Someone wanted those memories lost permanently." he captured Edward's queen." And what that means is, that a dangerous person is still amongst us, free--and utterly without conscience. Checkmate! "
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note---
This is the concluding chapter of Part One. For any phantom readers that might be interested, the story will continue. In part two the chapter titles are named for flowers, plants and trees that in someway symbolize some small part of the chapter.
Thanks for reading!
FairlightMuse
Can't Fight This Feeling---
REO Speedwagon