A/N: I would really appreciate comments on this one, as I'm not sure if it really makes sense to anyone but me. Unfortunately, I couldn't help but write it, as the plot bunny wouldn't let go of my damn ANKLE! Vicious little bugger. Anyway, on to the fic...

~the petals~

Dishevelled hair falling into eyes he doesn't dare to look into...
Seeker-toned body prowling incessantly through his subconscious...

~the stem~

An eleven-year-old staring into the eyes of the Dark Lord...
A fourteen-year-old refusing to bow, defiance unchanged...
Senseless, Gryffindor bravery: screaming stupidity into the face of your captor...

~the buds~

"Harry, mate, you're the best friend a guy could have..."
"Harry! Of course I'm your friend, you saved me from a troll..."
"For Harry's a jolly good fellow! One more time..."

~the thorns~

"Malfoy! I'm walking here! If you're blind, wear the dark glasses so I don't have to look at your ugly face!"
"Here....ferret, ferret, ferret..."
"How's your father finding Azkaban, Malfoy? You know, I hear they have excellent guest quarters, in case you wanted to visit..."

Light and Dark, Heroes and Villains, Alive and Dead. Contrast is inevitable, even necessary.

Dead Flowers.