Ginevra
Every story, tale or memoir
Every saga or romance
Whether true or fabricated
Whether planned or happenstance
Whether sweeping through the ages
Casting centuries aside
Or a hurried brief recital
Just a thirty-minute ride
Whether bright or melancholy
Rough and ready, finely spun
Whether with a thousand players
Or a lonely cast of one
Every story, new or ancient
Bagatelle or work of art
All are tales of human failing
All are tales of love at heart
This is the story
Of a love that flourished
In a time of hate
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Daphne Greengrass knelt on all fours, observing the aftermath from beneath her long blonde hair, hair that was stained with blood and dirt and tears. Sweat dripping from her beautiful face, she looked delicate and broken, deeply tragic. They had won; he had been defeated. Her and the renegades, they'd overcome him and thus ended the third war.
A war which had lasted eleven months to the day. A war which finally completed the task the Great Harry Potter had begun. A war which, now had been won, allowed survivors the comfort that The Boy Who Lived had not died in vain at the climax of the second war. A war which was initiated by Daphne losing the two people she'd loved more than life itself.
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Based upon the musical Aida. Lyrics belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Tasha.