Obsidian & Bronze {Fred Weasley}

20. The beauty of disappointment

(A/N) Hey everyone, I wanted to make a quick note thanking each and every one of you front the bottom of my heart for 10k views on this story. I started writing this as my creative outlet, a way to cope with life when things were getting tough, and the fact the you guys actually enjoy what I do makes me so happy. I am living vicariously through Ardelle and put so much of myself into her and I love that she is resonating with you all and you can connect with her. 

As always please keep voting and commenting so I can continue to grow this amazing community I have found. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much and I really hope you enjoy reading it, love you all and thank you once again, you all have helped me more than you know <3

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Disappointment was never a solace feeling, understandably, never the type of emotion one marveled in, nor a typical inevitably you would assume anyone relied on.

In spite of this, I heavily relied on disappointment, even found mild consolation in it, it was easier to befriend such a state rather than fear it, this way you were never disheartened with the outcome of any given scenario.

Always grasping the concept, however gently, that things are always destined to go wrong, leaves you feeling content and gratified should you happen to be proven otherwise, and when what you predicted would happen does in fact happen, you can look disappointment in the eye, and ensure it knows you anticipated its arrival.

I realise now, that's no way to live, stripping life clean of its ability to constantly surprise you, and that was the beauty of life, was it not?

I did often try to seek beauty in all things, however small or insignificant, I suppose everything held a certain level of beauty and purpose, people more than anything. Which I always found ironic because that also seems to be the thing that is appreciated least of all.

Regardless, I was determined to prove the beauty of the world around us, the simplicity of the remaining autumn leaves, the season of violent scarlet and golden amber not quite ready to evoke it footprint on the world, or the ethereal sweetness of the morning winter sun, slightly masked and dampened, although not lessened in value, buy the thick November winds.

Ah yes, the sun had always been a distant friend, a reminder of life beyond the four walls of whichever house was being used for refuge. Looking at its beauty, often for hours as a young child, at no more than age nine or ten, I would question who else happened to be seeking comfort in the sun's incessant and giving light.

William had once told me that if I ever wanted to feel less alone, or perhaps find another lost soul, that too was silently screaming into the universe, to look at the sun, or moon, but evident of the complicated relationship we held I opted for the sun, and know someone too was looking at this giant star, connecting, listening, living.

I sometimes thought of Sirius when I did this, questioning whether he too could see the sun, and if he acknowledged that it was the same sun that held jurisdiction upon my life, as well as his, although perhaps that was a little far fetched, but yet again this is where the comfort of disappointment makes itself known, I knew he wasn't looking, so why try and convince myself otherwise, to ultimately be let down?

Now with these two facts in mind, I stared endlessly into the mirror of the bathroom in my dormitory, acknowledging these facts once again. That disappointment is not something to fear, and that beauty makes itself known in the strangest and often the most mundane of places.

Fred Weasley was a small pocket of beauty I had the pleasure of encountering all those weeks ago, and now that I had experienced such heavenly euphoria, it was in good spirits that I was on my way to end it.