Harry Potter 1. Paris Green

**Title:** Shamrock Tea**  
Main Characters:** Irrelevant.**  
Ships:** Irrelevant.**  
Rating**: M (There will be certain scenes edited out for here for the rating. If you would like to know the other location of this story, please e-mail me.)**  
Genres:** Angst, Drama, Romance, and Tragedy**  
Summary:** _Before I begin, I feel it imperative to tell you that it matters not who I am or to whom these letters were written._ There will be slash although the characters will remain unknown.

**Note:** This fic, in part, was inspired by the book 'Shamrock Tea' by Ciaran Carson. I have borrowed the name of the book and the names of the chapters. Also, the creation of Shamrock Tea. Of course, I'm not making any money off of this and this is barely a crossover fan fic. All characters appearing in this story are from HP. I just wanted to get that settled.

**Shamrock Tea**

Before I begin, I feel it imperative to tell you that it matters not who I am or to whom these letters were written. All that matters is that for a very long time these letters were my life. I spent months on each one, but the timeline is not important either. I feel it equally important to tell you that whereas some of these letters are based on reality, some are not. Some are memories, some are present day actions, and others are fantasies. All in all there are one-hundred-and-one of these and I intend to share with you each of them, but I shall not tell you if the contents of them actually occurred or not, for that does not matter either.

_**Letter One: Paris Green**_

_To a fond recollection of you,_

_The attitude of everyone at this gathering is sombre. Whenever I dare approach anyone and they turn their solemn gaze to meet my own equally grave expression, I feel as if I am intruding. The room I am in is full of familiar but unrecognisable people that have mourned all day and grieved all evening. It is approaching midnight and I feel as if I should go but I am not sure if I have a home to return to. I don't much like the idea of having to find that out. That is what made me think of you because I always thought of you as home. I refer not to your body for that is rather vulgar, but to your presence. Whenever you were around I felt a sense of safety that only a home can provide. I wish that I could have that back, but, really, wishing is for children and I am no longer a child._

_This memory of you that had seized me so suddenly was of your eyes. I suppose that this is because I have been looking into dark, grim eyes all night, but perhaps the memory of yours is just so intense that I cannot help but recall the look of them and the sensations they sent through me when you looked my way. Then, after wallowing in the rustling sensation that had started up in my body upon that mental sight, I slowly began to recall the way that the corners of your eyes would lift whenever you smiled at something I had said to you. I will not be sentimental and linger on that thought, it's just the simple truth that I was one of the few that could ever make you laugh. After that, I realised what memory I was suddenly being reminded of... the night that we found ourselves all alone in our dormitory. You were painting for the very first time with a set of paints that you had bought over summer holiday. You looked up at me, for I was sitting on my bed studying and you were kneeling on the floor on the far side of yours. You asked me, 'What do you think the sky of Paris looks like at night?' and I looked over at you as if you were mad. You laughed when you saw the way I was staring at you and you hastily explained 'I mean, all those soft yellow lights and the night being indigo blue, wouldn't that make it --' 'Green?' 'Precisely.'_

_I just laughed then and shook my head in response but I thought about that over the preceding years and came to the conclusion that your logic was not that far off although I have been to Paris and the sky is not green there. You're an artist and you always will be and artists see things from their own perception of reality. It took me years to discover this, but when I finally did, I came to love you even more although I felt as if I already loved you as much as humanely possible._

_Now it is closing in on one in the morning. I still feel as if I should go but I loiter in the grand room where I feel alienated, a stranger amongst my own people. I feel as if it is I who has died, and maybe I have just a little bit. I have been dying all my life with the exception of the brief reprieves when I was at school and in your presence. How could you have affected me so? I thought that I would never get over the loss of our companionship but I thought that I had in the end. Yet, being back here amongst all these strangers I used to know, I feel as if I never did get over you and only lied to myself to seem stronger than I actually was, to keep from feeling as if I were dying, and to pretend that I was happy with the way that things turned out. I was deluded for so long, but now that you're gone and the pungent scent of the smoke of Shamrock Tea is floating round me in a thick haze, I see everything clearly. If only I had seen them so clearly then, maybe we... There is no use in finishing that sentence for dreaming is also for children, and, really, I am no longer a child._

_It is now three and I have found myself nodding off too many times to be ignored by the others who are now staring at me as if I am some sort of beast, which I now realise I am. I must return to the streets with the rest of those who will never feel at home again because the world is devoid of that one, irreplaceable person that, due to horrible circumstances and the cruelty of fate, they had been happy with but are now lost without. Just know that I shall never allow myself to forget you again and I will do everything to keep in mind that memory of you that gets more vivid with every intake of smoke I make on my pipe. Perhaps, in time, I will find you once again._


	2. Dragon's Blood

**Shamrock Tea  
**_**Letter Two: Dragon's Blood**_

_To my love who I cannot love,_

_As I sit here on a bench in a secluded area of this park, provided with shade from the sweltering heat of the day by a grand oak, I watch you. You are lying on your back in the grass and the atmosphere surrounding the two of us is heavily laden with things left unsaid and even more things that cannot be taken back. I have allowed my mouth to runaway from me once again and no longer are my thoughts my own. My secrets have all been laid before me and revealed to you. I watch as you close your eyes and I manage, even from this distance that is neither long or short, to single out each and every one of your fine eyelashes as they all lay in neat little rows against your skin. I think of the times when I had so desperately yearned to share with you what I have let fall from my lips and am ashamed by my foolishness. Some small part of me wished that you would take me into your arms and hold me after you discovered why I blush whenever you speak to me about things I rather wish you and I would have discovered together instead of you and another. I feel so much like a child now that I have realised that you will never feel for me the way that I feel for you. I am ashamed of these thoughts and these feelings but that does not keep them from existing and strengthening with each passing second._

_The wind is blowing a bit more consistently now and I watch as the steady breeze flutters your hair about. I want to lay down beside you and run my fingers through it because while it is short, it's fine and silky. I know this from my dreams, my fantasies, and the many times I've touched it under the pretence of leaning past you to get to something else. I see the beauty that you possess and I want to declare to the world how passionately I love you and how often and in what ways I would demonstrate my feelings for you, but I resist. I love you. I am so much in love with you! I imagine our bodies interlocking just now and I feel the heat course through my veins at the mere thought of my flesh on yours, my lips pressed to yours, your eyes boring into mine as you come. I wish that you would just give me the smallest indication that these thoughts, hopes, and dreams mean something to you. I do not want to be merely friends. I want to be your lover. However, if you showed to me now that you cared about me, I would accept who you are so long as you would accept who I am, even if you do not wish to be with me._

_The explosion scared away the birds. I remember it so clearly as it was only an hour or so ago when you said such hostile and hateful things to me. I had not even meant to say what I had. I had simply been curious as to what you had been spending your summer holiday doing. I was jealous and envious when you mentioned a girl's name to me. I thought that we were meant to be together and after so many years of loving you and desiring you, I was supposed to hold my tongue? The last logical thought I can remember having was that you deserved to be happy. Then, I said the most horrible thing I could possibly have said at that time 'You deserve to be happy, but not with someone like her. You should be with me!' The words echoed in my vacant head for all sense had seemed to escape me after that until you turned on the path, grabbed me by the shoulders and stared so intensely into my eyes I knew that you were somehow reading my mind. I was ashamed. I felt my cheeks grow red as I tried to look away but you grabbed my chin between your thumb and forefinger and stared ever so much more deeply into my eyes. After what seemed like an eternity you went into a tirade that very nearly broke my heart and whilst I knew it only lasted a few short minutes, it felt as if it had been going on for hours. Then you pushed me away at the same time you let go of my shoulders and stormed off. I stumbled backward and fell onto the gravel path but I did not cry even though it would certainly have been justified and I could feel the tears welling up inside me as the small, jagged rocks cut into the palms of my hands. I straightened up, dusted myself off, and continued on the trail, in search of you, until I noticed you lying here in the grass._

_I do not even know if you have noticed that I am here. I have been watching you for an hour although it seems so much longer than that. I wonder what you will say when you open your eyes, sit up and take sight of me. Will you shout at me again? Will the sky fill with the flocks of birds that are resting in the nearby trees? I watch you, my heart frozen with fear and tears accumulating in my chest, and think of how wonderful it must have been for that girl when you were inside her. I think of how I despise her and at the same time long to be her, just so that I would have felt some affection from you. I think of what you said and I have to look away from you. 'She told me that she was a virgin. I was her first.' I blink and tears roll down my cheeks but I make no sound of protest. I look back at you and the pain in my heart is now so intense that I can no longer bear to look at you. I stand and, with one long, lingering look back at you, walk away into a life that you will always play such a painful role in. All that this has taught me is that I am ashamed not only of who I am but of who you are or rather who I sometimes believe you to be..._


	3. Flesh

**Title:** Shamrock Tea  
**Main Characters:** Irrelevant.  
**Ships:** Irrelevant.  
**Rating**: M  
**Genres:** Angst, Drama, Romance, and Tragedy  
**Summary:** _Before I begin, I feel it imperative to tell you that it matters not who I am or to whom these letters were written._ There will be slash although the characters will remain unknown.

**Important:** To read 'Shamrock Tea: Letter Three _Flesh_' you must e-mail me for the link to where you can find it at my journal. I apologise if this is an inconvience but I do not wish to be banned as this chapter was bordering on NC-17. My e-mail address can be found in my profile.

Desiree


	4. Scarlet

**Shamrock Tea**

_**Letter Four: Scarlet**_

_To your innocent way of showing me you care,_

_Even now I find myself in your presence under the darkness of the indigo night sky and brightness of the pallid moon. I remember your paintings, drawings, sketches, uncompleted poems, the things that you let me see that no one else will ever have the pleasure of experiencing. I sit beside you and feel the breeze blowing across the tranquil lake water. You innocently lay your head on my shoulder and I feel myself go weak. My tongue could easily betray me and confess to you things I silently confess to in the dark when I lay awake, listening to you breathing in the bed next to mine as my hand slips into my pyjamas and I take myself into my hand. I want to tell you that you are a genius and that I love you and that your scent intoxicates me. I want to touch your cheek and kiss your lips. I want to blush scarlet as you look steadily into my eyes as you take me into your mouth. I want to wake up lying naked in the dewy grass with you by my side. I want to nuzzle up against you and feel you react to me. I want to spend eternity in your arms, but you will never let me._


	5. Gallaher's Blue

**Shamrock Tea  
**_**Letter Five: Gallaher's Blue  
**__  
_

_To the tears you shed in the dark,_

_As soon as I enter the room, the smoke of your Gallaher's Blue cigarette pollutes the first breath I take. At first I am stunned to see you smoking and standing in front of the window between our four-poster beds. The window is stuck; no one has ever been able to get it open so I know that you are not attempting to conceal the fact that you are smoking in our dormitory, which is against school rules. For some reason, my first response is to mention that you could get in trouble if you are caught but then I realise that your posture is different. I mentally chastise myself for realising that because that means I have been watching you far too closely, that I know you too well. However, when I realise how stiffly you are standing and how you aren't even bringing the cigarette to your lips, I realise that something is seriously wrong. I walk slowly, cautiously to your side and glance up at your face. Your eyes are wide, unmoving. I look out the window at the flurry of snowflakes and furrow my brow. I can not understand why you are acting so strangely. A terrifying moment passes in which I think you are under the Imperius Curse, but then I see a single tear fall from the corner of your left eye after you blink. I follow its progress down your cheek and somehow resist the urge to reach up and brush it away._

'_What's wrong?' I ask, to which you reply 'Everything'. Silence falls. I can feel it pressing against me, urging me to say something more. I hate to see you so sad and I don't even know what made you feel this way. 'What happened?' I ask, to which you reply 'Death Eaters. My mum's dead, brothers and sisters are dead. Everyone is dead.' I say nothing as I feel the weight of your pain suddenly crush down upon my soul. Your voice sounds so hollow. I want to hold you and brush away the tears that are falling rapidly now from your eyes. You turn away from the window and walk over to your four-poster. I watch as you sit down on the edge of the mattress and pull the curtains shut so that I can no longer see your face. I turn back to the window and gaze out at the iron sky of winter as tears of grief for your losses fall down my cheeks and the knowledge that you will never let me in settles on my already devastated soul._


End file.
