Quiet | By : Morosemordant Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11964 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is in no way mine nor do I make any money on it. The plot is mine however. |
Sunlight.
That’s what it was that made summer so wonderful. Sunlight, currently warm and caressing his face as he drifted in the wind. Long black eyelashes lay on his freckled-lightly burned cheeks. Stray fringe brushed back and forth along his forehead following the patterned shadow ghosts of fat leafs as they swayed to and fro with the warm breeze flowing around the burrow. The breeze came from the sea somewhere far off from the village down the hill. His hands tingled with the warm light and cool shade as the leaves rustled over head.
The hammock was just perfect. Hung between two massive oaks close to the forest on the far side of the meadow; it was choked with violets, daisies and clover soft and green underfoot. The little crooked house just visible and the voices of the large family, not his own, dancing on the air back to him. Harry hummed and removed his glasses.
Harry smiled vaguely, rubbed his eyes and replaced the spectacles inspecting the tape in the middle. He repaired them often and wondered even more often why he didn’t just chuck them. McGonagall told him he could only repair hem so much before the material simply crumbled. He supposed the same thing had happened to the Weasley’s Burrow. Harry chuckled.
Burrow, it fit the rabbit like family well, but Harry supposed if he loved someone as much as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loved one another he’d wouldn’t mind a large brood. It was a god thing the Dursley’s only had one child then. There was no love lost there.
He twisted his hand into the ropes beneath him. Tight, they rubbed raw on his tender sun parched skin. He hissed and twisted a little further. His eyes clenched shut as he focused on it all.
“HEY HARRY!” Harry sat up released his grip and popped his eyes open forcing a smile. He watched in mild amusement as his friends ran across the field, flowers kicking up around their feet. Yellow roses were braided deep and plentiful among Hermione’s dark locks. Ginny sported soft white violets in wreaths on her head and neck. They looked like nymphs. Ron followed laughing long lumbering steps catching him up to the girls.
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