No Tomorrow
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
654
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
654
Reviews:
0
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.
No Tomorrow
No Tomorrow
Dark. Everything was so dark. It wasn’t supposed to be dark. There were supposed to be bright and cheery voices everywhere. Little children playing in the streets with loud and carefree laughter. Everything was supposed to daisies and sunshine, damn it. But now it was just a dark and cold world. Life was hardly worth it but someone had to be alive, wasn’t that the way it was meant to be?
The heroes, the light and right side, had won. They had saved their world, given up everything and more for others, people they hardly knew. And what good did it do them? Memorials all over the place. Their names engraved in plates and what-not serving as a constant reminder of what and more importantly who was lost.
He thought back with a cold smile at the “happy” times, as he liked to call them. When there were so much more alive and despite everything that happened outside there was still a small amount of life, laughter and carelessness inside the dark house of the former noble house of Black. How he despised this house but it was a place he could find refugee in and call home. It even served as a very small link to his mother, wherever she was now. But that was the past; important was the now, even if not for very much longer.
He just visited their graves, brave men and women who lost their lives in the not-so-great but oh so bloody war that finally brought the Dark Lord to his demise. The world was free and everyone was invited to celebrate, once the rubbish was cleared and a few weeks of appropriated mourning were done. Anyway, that was what his brochure told him.
He was not prepared for this, but maybe he should have been. The qualified leaders and heroic fools either died their martyr death or had been tortured beyond insanity. They were lost to a world that needed structure and stability. And those few who had their wits together fled altogether. Scared and scarred by the horrors they had to witness they now lived far away in self-induced exile never to be seen again.
The end of the war was almost two years ago, the muggles were still as ignorant as ever, they lived their live how it should be in his world too. But on is way back home from the cemetery he only saw blank stares. Oh there was laughter but it sounded hollow. The smiles were only grimaces, no more eyes sparkled and in everyone’s face he saw resignation.
The post-war wizarding world had seen to many opportunists who wanted what was best for them. Up-and-coming politicians who saw their chance at creating a great new community but left as soon as their bags were full of money and the majority of the population realized what they were up to. But by then the damage was done. The Ministry was in shambles, there was hardly any coordination and those few willing to try were eyed sceptically before being chased out of the country.
He was so tired of it, he tried to help a few times, tried to bring some structure into the world but he failed, he was no noble leader he was an opportunist himself and he felt his options had run empty. That’s why he was now sitting on his bed, drink in hand. A poisonous drink that would quickly wash away his sorrow and broken dreams of a bright future complete with loving wife and adoring child.
Instead he lifted his drink and toasted to those lost, promising to see them soon and kick their arses for leaving things broken. It was the least he could do. And so he drank and settled himself against the cushions. No need to be uncomfortable even if there is no tomorrow.
Dark. Everything was so dark. It wasn’t supposed to be dark. There were supposed to be bright and cheery voices everywhere. Little children playing in the streets with loud and carefree laughter. Everything was supposed to daisies and sunshine, damn it. But now it was just a dark and cold world. Life was hardly worth it but someone had to be alive, wasn’t that the way it was meant to be?
The heroes, the light and right side, had won. They had saved their world, given up everything and more for others, people they hardly knew. And what good did it do them? Memorials all over the place. Their names engraved in plates and what-not serving as a constant reminder of what and more importantly who was lost.
He thought back with a cold smile at the “happy” times, as he liked to call them. When there were so much more alive and despite everything that happened outside there was still a small amount of life, laughter and carelessness inside the dark house of the former noble house of Black. How he despised this house but it was a place he could find refugee in and call home. It even served as a very small link to his mother, wherever she was now. But that was the past; important was the now, even if not for very much longer.
He just visited their graves, brave men and women who lost their lives in the not-so-great but oh so bloody war that finally brought the Dark Lord to his demise. The world was free and everyone was invited to celebrate, once the rubbish was cleared and a few weeks of appropriated mourning were done. Anyway, that was what his brochure told him.
He was not prepared for this, but maybe he should have been. The qualified leaders and heroic fools either died their martyr death or had been tortured beyond insanity. They were lost to a world that needed structure and stability. And those few who had their wits together fled altogether. Scared and scarred by the horrors they had to witness they now lived far away in self-induced exile never to be seen again.
The end of the war was almost two years ago, the muggles were still as ignorant as ever, they lived their live how it should be in his world too. But on is way back home from the cemetery he only saw blank stares. Oh there was laughter but it sounded hollow. The smiles were only grimaces, no more eyes sparkled and in everyone’s face he saw resignation.
The post-war wizarding world had seen to many opportunists who wanted what was best for them. Up-and-coming politicians who saw their chance at creating a great new community but left as soon as their bags were full of money and the majority of the population realized what they were up to. But by then the damage was done. The Ministry was in shambles, there was hardly any coordination and those few willing to try were eyed sceptically before being chased out of the country.
He was so tired of it, he tried to help a few times, tried to bring some structure into the world but he failed, he was no noble leader he was an opportunist himself and he felt his options had run empty. That’s why he was now sitting on his bed, drink in hand. A poisonous drink that would quickly wash away his sorrow and broken dreams of a bright future complete with loving wife and adoring child.
Instead he lifted his drink and toasted to those lost, promising to see them soon and kick their arses for leaving things broken. It was the least he could do. And so he drank and settled himself against the cushions. No need to be uncomfortable even if there is no tomorrow.