Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
using
 paypal
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

I Did Not Die

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking
Ficlet(s)

Summary: My response to Jinni's poetry challenge #17 - Draco mourns Dawn's death, and it seems that nothing will resolve his grief.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Dawn-Centered > Pairing: Draco MalfoydaiquirigirlFR1311,268019342 May 062 May 06Yes
Disclaimer: The characters are Joss's and JK's. I just mess with them.

Author's Note: Although this is in my old account, I cannot delete it there because I forgot my passowrd. I send away for the email, to my correct email address, but it never came through. Not my fault.

*~*~*~*


Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.

I am not there. I did not die.

-- I Did Not Die, Mary Sue Pacho

*~*~*~*~*~*

You do not sleep properly any more - not like you did when she lay by your side. You used to sleep so deeply that the end of the world could not wake you, but now even a breeze will awake you from your unrest. You sit in the dawn light looking out of the window onto the fields which surround your Manor, and you weep with sorrow as it reminds you of her. The birdsong cannot wake you from your grief, cheerful as it is, nor can the rising summer that she used to await so eagerly - for that, you do not remember. You do not remember her as living. Only your grief sustains you.

You have not eaten for days, and when your best friend calls to see how you fare you shout and rave, and tell him that he cannot possibly know how you are feeling. You do not realise that he knows only too well - you may have been her lover, but he was her best friend. Your eyes which once shined so bright are now dull, and lifeless. She whispers sadly in my ear that she thinks that this is strange, as she is the one who is supposed to be dead. Yet her spirit lives on, as yours is packed away - away with all memory of her. You pile her things in cardboard boxes, and lock the door with a charm, which can only be broken when you are truly ready to face what lies within. You do not think, as you close the door on your life together, that you will ever be able to realise fully that she is gone, and the life inside of her too. When she was struck down your whole world was lost, and so wrapped up in your own grief are you that you do not realise that the war is far from over, that your friends who once relied on your strength so greatly are now having to make do without. It does not even occur to you that others have more to grieve over than you - a mother wept last night over the loss of her husband, and all of her sons. Now only her daughter remains, and she alone cannot hope to combat her mother's dreadful sorrow. Your lover's friends also, need you more than you will ever need them - there are few as strong as you. The redheaded witch, the Chosen One, and more loved her almost as much as you, but you know who needs you most, and you have turned even them from you.

The children of the one you love suffer because of you, and all of your selfishness. If you could see how her heart bleeds when they cry out for their father, you would not be so cold. You said once that she meant more to you than anyone on this Earth and the next, yet you reject the only remnants of her remaining that you can reach. You say that your grief will not allow you to function, and you will not accept any help - your infamous family pride will not allow it.

You suffer through summer until autumn arrives, bringing with it her scent and the falling of the leaves. You sit by her grave and talk to her, scorning yourself for being so childish. She is gone, and she cannot hear you. This pains her to hear, and she asks me with tears in her eyes if there is any way she can reach you, and let her know that her spirit lives on, even her body lies cold in her grave. I tell her that she cannot speak to you, though she may cast her reflection into ice, that you may see her face. I warn her that not only will this be exhausting, but that if you see her see her face from the afterlife, then she will be exiled from this place, and will not be able to see nor hear you again, and will spend all her eternity in darkness. She says that if it will stop your unnecessary grief for her and allow you to live your life happily, then she does not care. This woman is too good for you. But I let her go ahead.

A frozen pool is next to her grave - it was her favourite place to spend her days while she was still on your earth. Spending all of her will on this one thing for you, she throws her very being into that ice, in one final, heroic effort to reach you. She then acheives something that no one in my memory, which lasts for all the lifetime of this Earth a hundredfold, has yet acheived.

She calls out your name.

Her voice echoes in your mind as it brings back eternal summers of your life together, and it shatters the ice surrounding the heart which once loved so warm. Tears cascade down your cheeks, melting your icy reserve, as she tells you what you need to know. Her chestnut hair swirls around her shoulders as her own turquoise eyes also brim with tears, her cheeks flushed with the effort of reaching you. Her voice appears to you as distant, echoing in the far reaches of you endless mind, but her words sound as an awakening bell in your heart.

"Do not stand at my grave and forever weep. I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn’s rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and forever cry. I am not there. I did not die."

Her voice and image fade from your mind, as you fall to your knees and claw at the ice, trying desperately in vain to hold onto the woman you loved, then lost. You cry out her name over and over, the word echoing in your mind and reminding you of it's meaning. As her spirit fades into darkness, where she will wait for you eternal, her words penetrate the dark corners of your mind which have been left untouched since you believed she left you, and awaken there a feeling which you thought you had lost. And your heart is full, full.

In the mornings now you do not lie alone on your unmade bed, grieving days gone by. You sit on the hill above where her body lies, and watch her spread over the land, filling every inch of the world with her boundless beauty. You smile to yourself as your children play at your feet, and you are filled with love and joy. And your heart is full.

*~*~*~*~*~*

End

*~*~*~*~*~*

Disclaimer: The characters in this fic are the exclusive property of J.K. Rowling. Just so you know...

The End

You have reached the end of "I Did Not Die". This story is complete.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking