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my telltale heart's a-hammer in my chest
[w28] full circle
I sat in your pocket for a long time, waiting. You were not my first owner, nor would you be my last; I had belonged to someone else for a short but beautiful time. His fingers had always been warm, hot-blooded as he used to be.
And then, cold. So cold. Dark all around me, so far removed from the world we used to be part of. No more fresh air, no more grass beneath us, no locks of hair getting tangled around me.
I used to be happy with him and then sad with him, and now I was both sad and happy with you, in your pocket, waiting.
You were nervous—I could feel it in the way you toyed with me when it was just us, your clammy thumb rubbing against my side. It was comforting; your father used to do the same thing when he was nervous—except he kept me on his ring finger and it was time you made that happen again.
It was not I that gave you the courage to finally do it, but your friend that held me so gently, as if she knew just what I meant. She probably did. She had smart fingers, I could tell.
And so, you ask, and tears splash onto me as I get slipped back onto a finger, right where I belong.
He is not as warm as my previous owner used to be. His finger is slender and thin, so that you need to tap me with your wand to make me shrink to a snug size. But this is home, now.
He doesn’t fidget with me, twist me around his finger, rub against me. But sometimes, when it’s just him and I, he cups me in his other hand and traces the edges of me, his fingertip so smooth but shaky, so very different from the confident man I used to belong, but not bad.
He wants to be worthy of me, and in wishing that so feverishly that even I can sense it, he becomes just that.
Last time, it was a small ceremony and I felt only a few palms in handshake. This time, there seem to be dozens, hundreds, all night long. There are happy shakes, excited ones, such strong ones I am glad for my golden sturdiness; there are also some that seem not so sure.
It doesn’t matter.
You hold me as you hold your new husband’s hand, press my twin against me. Lily and James are here through us and in you, Harry, and I have known them intimately—I know they would be proud.
Now here’s to hoping, as much as a ring can, that I will get to spend more years with you two. That I will get to spend a lifetime on Draco’s finger.