darkravenwrote: (rose)
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Title: Guardian of the Grounds
Word Count: 516
Rating: V. light M (literally hinted sex poetically)
Challenge: HD_writers Wizarding Games: Assignement #4 - Create an H/D story from the POV of neither Harry nor Draco (Min: 500 Words)
POV: The Whomping Willow - don't ask, I'm weird.
Pairing: Required Harry/Draco obviously :D
Warnings: Purple prose, omg so much, I'm so sorry!  Hinted sex um.  What tense is this?  First person plural present?  Omg, totally sorry for that too.
A/N: Does this even count?  The prompt doesn't say to include a sport and this is kind of what just happened sooo...yeah I'm going to go with this.  Felt like a marathon getting the last 100 words in so I think this counts!

They come at night, lovers in the dark. But we see all. We are old and our roots run deep, feeling our way safely through the shadows.

They come to lay on our earth, beneath our protection. One is the lion, flashing bravery in his red cloak, staring death in the face with his ebony mane and determined eyes. The other is the snake, with his subtle adoration hidden beneath his thick scales away from prying eyes and his golden head and his secrets, so many secrets.

They come beneath our branches, into our embrace, to hide. Away from the other animals who hunt them with tooth and claw, lashing at their exposed backs and sinking suddenly into their soft throats. Away from the wicked tongues that spout curses like raining fire and flash sparks from their power-wood to hurt and maim. Away from the predators, who scout and simper around them, pretending friendship like reptilian scales slithering through closed windows. We cannot protect them from the cruelties of man beyond the reach of our branches. But we will embrace them, comfort them.

Even as we are ravaged by the brisk winds at our backs, pummeling our branches. We will not bow to it. We will stand tall we have since we were planted by the gentle hands of the founders to watch the castle from its foundations up.

The lady moon is bright in the sky this night, her pearly eye half open, watching and smiling. The forest, the evil place we must ward away snaring any approaching roots at our borders, is silent. The lovers will have peace tonight. We watch them, always, alert for danger. Guarding the secrets.

Sometimes, they roar at one another and scrap in a heap on the ground, kicking and squealing at like newborn babes fighting for their mothers attention, as if there were not enough affection for the both of them. We lash at them then, the stupidity of them, cracking our vines like thunder above their heads until they break apart and their hearts are pounding and their faces are pale.

Sometimes, they lay still and soak up the atmosphere, warm with it, any tensions from the day previous bleeding from the air, and we rest easily, watch quietly while they play their game of wooing and seduction, all lowered eyes and nervous hands.

Sometimes, they wander slowly, sombre, their heads bowed, paying tribute to the fallen with their silence and sadness. We dip our vines to the earth and rest, uncomfortable with the blood oozing into the earth elsewhere.

Sometimes, they come to bare their skin, all luminescent limbs awash with the moonlight. They frolic and tangle between themselves, rhapsodic and lost. They chase the rapture, slick with sweat and mud - reaffirming the life of the earth, ancient magic long forgotten. We celebrate then, dancing with the wind, hailing the stars.

We will protect their secrets and their promises as we have the castle's for centuries. Until the fire takes us or the darkness poisons us. We are the Whomping Willow, guardian of the grounds.

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