(allow me to believe)
May. 10th, 2004 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkaI was reading Ivy's `Hiatus', and... I got all gooey. I wouldn't call that piece itself -sappy- or anything, but sometimes the mood does strike me, and Harry&Draco start to glow in my head as if I'm seeing them on a cathedral window or something. Yep, I take "OTP" to a whoooole new level.
Sadly enough, self-insert fics are almost -normal- in original stuff, for me. I guess one can't tell what's self-insert and what isn't, so it lulls one into a false feeling of security. So I started rambling on about the glory of their True Wuv (tm!) and suddenly I was getting all personal and thinking, "Hmm... me? Hermione? Hmmmm."
That's when I should've performed a mercy killing, I'm sure of it.
...This is so embarrassing. It's not really a fic, though. I mean, kind of but not really. In my head, it's all relative, you know :>
I want to keep you two together when it seems like all you want to do is fall apart. I want to say, "Hey, just look-- look at each other-- tell each other what you see." I want it to mean something more, something that would make it easier for me, but neither of you had ever made a habit of making things easy, have you.
In my dream, your love is beautiful and solid. It's evident in every sentence, no matter what you say; whether you're together or not. It radiates, it shines, it's the gravity that keeps you on the earth, in each other's orbit. In my dream, you do talk instead of always snarking, and you understand each other. I think you need each other, you see. I don't know why, but once the idea settled in my brain, there was no withdrawing it.
I see a rhythm, a flow between you, and you make me remember what love is; like I ever knew. "So this is how it works," I think, and I feel like smiling because I realize I'd never actually forgotten. I can't forget this. This could never end, even if the two of you do-- even if you broke up, this wouldn't break.
From the outside, it would be nearly oblique, possibly incomprehensible. If one judges it, it disappears. But if one closes one's eyes, one can see it-- as if it's always been there, that image of them.
The best stories do that: allow me to believe. The people in them believe in themselves, too; in each other.
I never really believed in magic, quite. I still rely on proofs and measures and what I can construe of facts, and sometimes it just feels so painfully lonely I could snap. The magic was always there, since childhood, but I could never really touch it; thing is, I think you can, Harry. You can live for all of us. Sometimes I think that's what the whole "Boy Who Lived" thing is there for.
You'd blush and look at me funny if I told you that, I know you would. You hate that title, and I'm not too crazy about it either. And I'm too sensible to really say things like that anyway, though I can write them down. You keep secrets too, of course, but you're so... straightforward. You may question everything else, but you doesn't question your basic perceptions of yourself, your own feelings. It seemed obvious that when you fell, you'd fall hard and certain.
I could look at you beaming at everyone and think, 'just you wait, Harry. Just you wait'. And of course, you'd never know why I was smiling like that.
The people in the stories could figure out how to believe what they're saying, figure out who they are together, and everything that matters falls into place. Suddenly, it's not difficult at all. It's not a struggle, it's not impossible. It's the easiest thing they'd ever done. Loving each other is the easiest thing they'd ever done, and they know it.
That's what I want. That's why I go breathless and wonder-struck when I see it in a story, when it becomes self-evident all over again, when I'm allowed to believe without trying again. I never thought I'd witness it in reality.
It's not sappy, when it happens. It's not cheesy, it's not inevitable, it's not fate. It didn't have to happen, but it did, because they chose-- they chose each other, somehow. It's not a miracle, but it feels like it could be. It's like-- life can surprise you, sometimes, because you think you're falling apart but you're finally getting it, instead. You're finally getting it. It shouldn't work, either; it's sheer foolishness, anyone could tell you that. That's not love, they'd say, that's juvenile infatuation. Hormones. They say it can't last, but you two don't need it to last.
'Feels too good to stop,' I know that's what you're thinking. I couldn't live like that, but I want to see you try it. You're strong enough, I think. I believe in you two. I need to; always have.
"Sometimes I really do want to hurt him, you know."
If you told me you thought he slipped you a love-potion when you weren't looking, I wouldn't laugh, Harry. I suppose that's how it has to feel-- out of control and kind of insane. The way magic would feel inside you, though I wouldn't know. I never thought swallowing a potion felt like magic.
You never imagined yourself capable of this, did you?
"I wish he'd stop looking at me. I wish he'd just go away. I don't even need him to die. I just want him not to have existed, you know?"
You'd said things like that only what-- months ago, right?
Oh Harry.
Everything else aside, it hurts me to see you hurt that that, Harry. All this anger and insecurity must be tearing you apart, and I can't pretend otherwise even though I wish I could. I wish I could write you only happy endings. I wish you never had to hurt anyone again, least of all yourself.
I know, Harry. Hell, my daily level of irritation is something most people couldn't even imagine. I know what it's like to be exasperated and beside yourself the greater part of every day. But it's worth it, isn't it? You can make it be worth it, if you worked on it. I would tell you two to work on it, but neither of you ever listens. It's all right, I think, you'll learn.
Neither of you two listens to authority unless you choose to, and I've always respected that. I go along too easily; I take the path of least resistance, and I never wanted to see you do it. I don't want you to struggle-- I just want you to win, Harry.
You'd be surprised to know I approved, if you knew I knew, wouldn't you? It's kind of like a nightmare, even with all the good parts. I know it is. I love you, and you wouldn't think I'd want that for you, right?
That's probably the reason you'd not tell anyone-- you're just so uncomfortable with it yourselves. From the outside, it may look almost sweet, but the sweetness never quite permeates all the way to the core, does it? I know that. Sweetness isn't all one needs though, is it?
And what do they know, anyway? They'd grown up and gotten their piece of the pie, haven't they. They're so certain, aren't they. They've got all the answers, and you've got none, but you don't need answers anyway. All you need is the certainty of now. That's how it could be, I think.
I just love you, Harry, and I want you to have stability and tender touches and teasing looks and all of it. I want you to accept all of yourself, even the ugly parts, the parts you think are Slytherin and dangerous. And if he didn't love you the way I know he does-- the way I know he can-- I would still want to believe.
I'd still want to believe in you.
~~
...Hee. Only Ivy's fic could make me -this- sappy ^^;
Sadly enough, self-insert fics are almost -normal- in original stuff, for me. I guess one can't tell what's self-insert and what isn't, so it lulls one into a false feeling of security. So I started rambling on about the glory of their True Wuv (tm!) and suddenly I was getting all personal and thinking, "Hmm... me? Hermione? Hmmmm."
That's when I should've performed a mercy killing, I'm sure of it.
...This is so embarrassing. It's not really a fic, though. I mean, kind of but not really. In my head, it's all relative, you know :>
I want to keep you two together when it seems like all you want to do is fall apart. I want to say, "Hey, just look-- look at each other-- tell each other what you see." I want it to mean something more, something that would make it easier for me, but neither of you had ever made a habit of making things easy, have you.
In my dream, your love is beautiful and solid. It's evident in every sentence, no matter what you say; whether you're together or not. It radiates, it shines, it's the gravity that keeps you on the earth, in each other's orbit. In my dream, you do talk instead of always snarking, and you understand each other. I think you need each other, you see. I don't know why, but once the idea settled in my brain, there was no withdrawing it.
I see a rhythm, a flow between you, and you make me remember what love is; like I ever knew. "So this is how it works," I think, and I feel like smiling because I realize I'd never actually forgotten. I can't forget this. This could never end, even if the two of you do-- even if you broke up, this wouldn't break.
From the outside, it would be nearly oblique, possibly incomprehensible. If one judges it, it disappears. But if one closes one's eyes, one can see it-- as if it's always been there, that image of them.
The best stories do that: allow me to believe. The people in them believe in themselves, too; in each other.
I never really believed in magic, quite. I still rely on proofs and measures and what I can construe of facts, and sometimes it just feels so painfully lonely I could snap. The magic was always there, since childhood, but I could never really touch it; thing is, I think you can, Harry. You can live for all of us. Sometimes I think that's what the whole "Boy Who Lived" thing is there for.
You'd blush and look at me funny if I told you that, I know you would. You hate that title, and I'm not too crazy about it either. And I'm too sensible to really say things like that anyway, though I can write them down. You keep secrets too, of course, but you're so... straightforward. You may question everything else, but you doesn't question your basic perceptions of yourself, your own feelings. It seemed obvious that when you fell, you'd fall hard and certain.
I could look at you beaming at everyone and think, 'just you wait, Harry. Just you wait'. And of course, you'd never know why I was smiling like that.
The people in the stories could figure out how to believe what they're saying, figure out who they are together, and everything that matters falls into place. Suddenly, it's not difficult at all. It's not a struggle, it's not impossible. It's the easiest thing they'd ever done. Loving each other is the easiest thing they'd ever done, and they know it.
That's what I want. That's why I go breathless and wonder-struck when I see it in a story, when it becomes self-evident all over again, when I'm allowed to believe without trying again. I never thought I'd witness it in reality.
It's not sappy, when it happens. It's not cheesy, it's not inevitable, it's not fate. It didn't have to happen, but it did, because they chose-- they chose each other, somehow. It's not a miracle, but it feels like it could be. It's like-- life can surprise you, sometimes, because you think you're falling apart but you're finally getting it, instead. You're finally getting it. It shouldn't work, either; it's sheer foolishness, anyone could tell you that. That's not love, they'd say, that's juvenile infatuation. Hormones. They say it can't last, but you two don't need it to last.
'Feels too good to stop,' I know that's what you're thinking. I couldn't live like that, but I want to see you try it. You're strong enough, I think. I believe in you two. I need to; always have.
"Sometimes I really do want to hurt him, you know."
If you told me you thought he slipped you a love-potion when you weren't looking, I wouldn't laugh, Harry. I suppose that's how it has to feel-- out of control and kind of insane. The way magic would feel inside you, though I wouldn't know. I never thought swallowing a potion felt like magic.
You never imagined yourself capable of this, did you?
"I wish he'd stop looking at me. I wish he'd just go away. I don't even need him to die. I just want him not to have existed, you know?"
You'd said things like that only what-- months ago, right?
Oh Harry.
Everything else aside, it hurts me to see you hurt that that, Harry. All this anger and insecurity must be tearing you apart, and I can't pretend otherwise even though I wish I could. I wish I could write you only happy endings. I wish you never had to hurt anyone again, least of all yourself.
I know, Harry. Hell, my daily level of irritation is something most people couldn't even imagine. I know what it's like to be exasperated and beside yourself the greater part of every day. But it's worth it, isn't it? You can make it be worth it, if you worked on it. I would tell you two to work on it, but neither of you ever listens. It's all right, I think, you'll learn.
Neither of you two listens to authority unless you choose to, and I've always respected that. I go along too easily; I take the path of least resistance, and I never wanted to see you do it. I don't want you to struggle-- I just want you to win, Harry.
You'd be surprised to know I approved, if you knew I knew, wouldn't you? It's kind of like a nightmare, even with all the good parts. I know it is. I love you, and you wouldn't think I'd want that for you, right?
That's probably the reason you'd not tell anyone-- you're just so uncomfortable with it yourselves. From the outside, it may look almost sweet, but the sweetness never quite permeates all the way to the core, does it? I know that. Sweetness isn't all one needs though, is it?
And what do they know, anyway? They'd grown up and gotten their piece of the pie, haven't they. They're so certain, aren't they. They've got all the answers, and you've got none, but you don't need answers anyway. All you need is the certainty of now. That's how it could be, I think.
I just love you, Harry, and I want you to have stability and tender touches and teasing looks and all of it. I want you to accept all of yourself, even the ugly parts, the parts you think are Slytherin and dangerous. And if he didn't love you the way I know he does-- the way I know he can-- I would still want to believe.
I'd still want to believe in you.
~~
...Hee. Only Ivy's fic could make me -this- sappy ^^;
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Date: 2004-05-11 12:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-11 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-11 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-11 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-11 12:44 am (UTC)Then again, I always go for the emotions. Everyone's got a bias. :)