Title: Conflict
Author: Lorien_Eve
Pairing: Harry/??
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry, Voldemort, Quidditch, or Professor Snape. They’re all JKR’s.
Feedback: Sure!
Summary: For Harry, a range of emotions brings him conflict, and love is the most trying of them all.
Acknowledgements: A big ‘thank you’ to Lena, as always, for seeing beyond the words and knowing that this isn’t just Harry’s story - it’s mine as well.
Conflict is a state of open, prolonged fighting.
Like the war against Voldemort. It’s watching your friends being picked off one by one. It’s bodies dropping like flies, dying faster than you can dig the holes. It’s the sound of silence before the din of chaos. It’s sparks of curses and flares of hatred. It’s the smell of fear and burning wood. It’s hiding behind gravestones and peeking around trees. It’s what you see first thing in the morning and everything you don’t want to see when you close your eyes at night. It’s what makes you fight longer and harder than you ever thought you could.
Conflict is a collision.
Like a Quidditch match. It’s falling off your broom and tumbling twenty feet before hitting solid ground. It’s not being able to turn your broom around in time to avoid making contact with another player. It’s not stopping fast enough to prevent a crash into the goal posts. It’s the sunlight getting in your eyes just when you think you’ve seen a golden glimmer. It’s hearing the opposing fans cheer when your Keeper can’t keep up. It’s the sound a Bludger makes when it hits you in the face and breaks your nose. It’s what the other team feels when you catch the Snitch.
Conflict is dissention between two contrasting individuals.
Like Professor Snape in double Potions. It’s not slicing the toad hearts fast enough. It’s your stomach turning after gutting a caterpillar. It’s your knees going weak while plucking salamander eyes. It’s the hissing sound the fire makes when ignited under your cauldron. It’s the swishing of a cloak and a satisfied laugh when your measurements are not accurate. It’s brewing the potion right to prove Snape wrong.
Conflict is a state of disharmony between incompatible ideas.
Like being broken but putting the pieces back together so that no one notices. It’s glances at stars and stars that never glance back. It’s days that turn into nights and nights that turn into days like the one before. It’s leaves that crunch under your shoes but dissolve silently under your feet. It’s too bright lights that never seem to lead you out of the darkness. It’s a cold wind blowing through a hot day. It’s full cups that always leave you thirsty.
Conflict is contradictory impulses within an individual.
Like loving a boy who you know you shouldn’t love and who you know will never love you back. It’s dropping your books at inopportune times and wanting to sink into a hole. It’s the sound of a voice ringing in your ear when you know there’s only silence. It’s sparks of light and flares of desire. It’s the smell of fear and burning cheeks. It’s hiding your feelings so well that you have to look for them. It’s peeking around shelves and over open books. It’s the first face you see when you wake up in the morning and everything you hope to see when you close your eyes at night. It’s what makes you want longer and harder than you ever thought you would.
Like flying while your feet are on solid ground. It’s falling but not being afraid of hitting. It’s not being able to turn around in time to avoid making eye contact. It’s not stopping fast enough to prevent bumping shoulders. It’s the sun shining even when the moon is out. It’s cheering for yourself when you keep your secret for one more day. It’s the sound a breath makes when it hits your face and breaks your concentration. It’s what you feel when no one catches on.
Like your heart beating faster than it should. It’s your stomach fluttering when you know there’s nothing in it. It’s having the guts to keep your eyes locked for more than three seconds. It’s keeping your knees steady while plucking up the courage to nod. It’s the hissing sound your breath makes when it catches in your chest. It’s the swishing of a cloak and a satisfied laugh when your measurements are perfectly accurate. It’s doing everything right to prove everyone wrong.
Like feeling broken but someone handing you the pieces and a bottle of glue. It’s glances that turn into stares and stares that are never returned. It’s leaving that crushes you but dissolves silently under your tongue. It’s nights that turn into days and days that turn into nights that never last long enough. It’s bright eyes that lead you out of the darkness. It’s a cold look blowing through hot words. It’s full lips that always leave you thirsty.
Conflict is a struggle between the rational mind and the capricious heart.
Like sights that blind you in the darkness. It’s swimming in a bathtub and snorkeling in a sink. It’s being redeemed only after you are damned. It’s black that looks white and white that looks like something you want to drink. It’s soft objects that become stiff and stiff objections you wish you could soften. It’s clean clothes laying rumpled on the floor and dirty clothes spread neatly across sheets. It’s words that mean nothing but letters that mean everything. It’s talking without listening but hearing every whisper. It’s sounds that echo in your head once everything is still. It’s touches that burn through your skin and leave marks you don’t want to erase. It’s smells of sweat and grass and hesitation. It’s a taste of bitter defeat and sweet victory with a hint of irony.
Like finding what you're looking for once you stop searching.