kakaheishi

The following days slumped on. Sirius continued to strain his brow with a heavy scowl and Remus was keeping well away. He instead spent more time with Lily, much to the distaste of James who was trying to keep some kind of peace between them all. Peter did what he could to keep up with the social politics but was quite often abandoned for dramatic exits that did not require his assistance. It was gloomy Thursday afternoon and the Gryffindor common room was packed with furious students, squeezing the knowledge from every textbook into their exhausted brains.  Peter and James however were passing the time before dinner with a game of checkers.

Regret dances around me, Still body of the enemy Now nothing But something to step over. Domestic life lingers, Dirty dishes on the table. Silence reigns In Death's demonic wake. Wood creaks as weight Pushes against failing stairs, Failing stars Cling to dusk for mercy. Second door the left ajar, And the heart quickens Silence breaks By an innocent whine. The whine welcomes a cry As I welcome the room. Limp fingers Come into bleak view. Sounds stop like deafness, Eyes linger on the lifeless. Regret returns Cradling me as I cradle you. There is no light this sunrise, The colour has dyed out of life. Emptiness co

He wasn't exactly sure why he had decided to go for it at that moment, but when Lily had scooped her hair back over her shoulder, revealing that pale, delicate neck, he just couldn't help himself but to lean in and press a kiss gently to her skin. Lily was a little taken aback by this new move and stiffened immediately. She wanted to be overcome with repulsion or so she told herself, but it was a gentle, nuzzling sort of kiss that made her stomach flutter delightfully. This unnecessary fluttering came as an even greater shock and she immediately lashed her hand across James' face to get him off as though he were some annoying fly. "Get lost

Petrified. That's what I thought, I thought you'd be Petrified. Or you were just being a prat. But you were actually dead, weren't you? You died. Without a 'Cheerio! Goodbye!' Limbless, is how I feel. Heartless, is what I am. Mindless vengeance will follow Without you.

6th September, 1971 Aunt Walburga, I write on somewhat reluctant terms to inform you of events here at Hogwarts. I know that Sirius will not write to you out of cowardice so I will do it for him. There must have been some kind of mistake by the Sorting Hat; it cannot possibly be trusted to make an informed decision on one's personality traits. The truth is Sirius has been sorted into Gryffindor. I know this will bear terribly on you and I will do my best to keep a watchful eye on him. It might also interest you to know that he has taken a liking to the Potter boy, James who was also sorted into Gryffindor. Yours, Narcissa Black. She sat

Harry's broken promise to Ginny. She remembered the first time he'd kissed her. In the common room, in front of everyone, his friends, her friends, her brothers. She had to break into a small smile at that memory. It was a Sunday afternoon, it didn't matter what month seeing as they were all the same. Time dragged horribly when your education was being dictated to by a foundation of lies and discrimination. Every day was grey. As if the very soul of Hogwarts had died along with Dumbledore. There was no longer laughter that filled the corridors, but hushed whispers and harsh shouts. To think she once felt at home here. Here where she had her

There she was, heading down the hall in all her radiant glory. Her wine red hair cascading down her back in a delicious contrast with the black school cloak that bellowed in her wake. She was… "PRONGS?!" ...ruined by Sirius' giant, impatient face now glaring at him. "Err, yeh, mate?" "Stop staring after Evans and concentrate." "Concentrate on the rate your massive ego is inflating as you duel the armoury?" "Exactly!" Sirius clapped his lanky friend on the shoulder, causing James to start a little. He adjusted his glasses and leant back against the wall. "Why is she so lovely, Pads?" He asked, wistfully. Sirius tried not to look

MINISTRY CALLS FOR MUGGLE-BORN REGISTRY Muggle-borns are now being asked to submit details of their families to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for protection purposes. The Minister for Magic has said: "The threat to Muggle-born witches and wizards is becoming increasingly dangerous. At this time, all Muggle-borns should be registered along with their families for protection." It has been argued by activist for Muggle Rights, Ramona Deflaw that 'this is a concealed consensus of information that could get into the wrong hands and cause irreparable damage.' Conflict has arisen over the amount of protection that will be provided to

Lily had been perched on the window sill in the living room for the good part of an hour. She had returned from work early and immediately discarded her formal robes in favour of her most comfortable pyjama bottoms and a simple t-shirt. She had been watching the mundane street below, finding comfort in the lives of strangers as they went about their business, unaffected by the war raging on behind veiled magical doorways. She gazed off down the end of the road, wanting to put her head through the window so that she could see around the corner; half expecting James to be sauntering down the road looking incredibly pleased with his Sainsbury's

He was getting too old for this; too old to be running about the British countryside anyway. It must've been nearly dawn as the darkness of the freezing winter night was drawing to a lazy close. The murky blue broke through on the horizon and birds twittered above as his feet crunched through dead leaves. Ted Tonks was a proud man. He had never asked for anything without giving something in return. He had never taken himself too seriously like 'Dromeda did and he certainly wasn't afraid to stand up for what he believed in. "Ted, I mean… Are you sure you want to go alone? I can come with you and-" "No, pet, it'll be safer if I go alone.

Browns, blues, greys and shades. Pixie, bobs and long locks tossled, bed heads and caps. Leopard, floral, top buttoned- up. Boundaries blur for the unisex ways. Fushia nails tap at iphones. The liberal beside me cynical of the scene, the concrete catwalk. Maskless, some drown in the town. Coffee shops, fag stops, big issue sellers Walk the path paved with gum stains. Foot pains, shoes scream on shop floors. Thread frays like the shopper's days, closing time dawns on them that the perfect top is yet to be found. Don't fret, you can shop on the net.

If in here theres a care somewhere, do you think I'd give it up for you? Do you even know who I am at all? There's a tap and a bang he's dead.        What now?                  Who cares?

and yes this is the way my mind works, especially now, watching you twitch and bitch about what a wanker you've been. no memory tender enough to keep or cling hold to when all remains are bleak whispers of the soul. end meets the indefinite the end is the inevitable the end is the tears splatting on old cracked feet. washing away tired lies.

One may always ponder the wonder within. And conclude that after bottle of gin, The psyche in which you seek Is probably lost, forever in the bin.

When the fire spreads And embers crack Against corrupted ears, When humanity decays And violence takes hold, Will you descend and take Even the weakest of lives? When Gaia cries, Will you comfort her, With whispered pleas That we can change? Death roars around As history unwinds and Savage societies squander The spreading shadows. Life lifts the veil To selfish prayers And crumpled faith.

I pricked my finger on a rose, Blood dripped upon a leaf. The prick that pricked my finger, Was a sorry, dirty sight. Eyes sullen and sunk like a rodent in the night. His soundless mouth had been sewn shut. Abused flesh grew purple, distressed. Crusted cuts oozed with a mourneful promise. "I'll be your sweet lover, Lousy and half dead. My heart will beat broken to bits But my feelings will not decay." The prick made me spin, Into a bed of vines thick. He took no reply to that silent promise. He took me anyway And a petal wilted.

They could all be dead. But I cannot see Past your gigantic head.

Something about silence Is significantly sacred. Bubbles and bustles of thought Suspended As silence intervenes. An opening of insight, Into quiet reserve. A window of deaf movement Silence is undisturbed. And when silence is broken, It sinks the heavy heart.

The West stops to gasp, Mother rages randomly, In the Eastern world.

Swayed, shaken, shocking Children are screaming and scared. Crushed, a mighty land