Poems of the Forgotten Delacour

Disclaimer: This entire world belongs to JKR, not me (though I sooooo wish!) The characters I will be portraying also belong to JKR, and I own none of this! <3

Hi! My name is Kate, and this is my fourth challenge, 3rd SS25, so I am VERY excited! This is my second time doing an HP canon character, but...I am putting a twist on this to make it more difficult and fun for me! I'm doing all poems for Gabrielle. This is totally going to be a challenge, too, since they can only be 100 words, but I am totally looking forward to it. I write poetry in my personal life, and am applying to school for it, but...these poems won't be great xD More just fun for me to play around with form, structure, and using prompts for ideas. SO DON'T JUDGE ME. <3

***

Being five was hard when your sister left you
For a school in the hills, a palace you had only dreamed
Of together. She had really gone, and you had no to blame.

Being five was hard when your sister left you,
And all you had left of her were her dolls. You loved dolls,
But they smelled of Fleur, and so you accidentally set them aflame.

Being five was hard when your sister left you,
And you were a witch, and so emotions carried power
That you were not used to, and time had not yet set in to tame.

Left________________
________Right
Left___________________________
Right

Went her_________hips as she_____________popped

_____Sporadically through_____________the den,

dancing_____like a _______girl

With no _______________________training.

“We have to get her more structured, you know?”
“The more she’s structured, she’ll appreciate
How ballet can help her figure, posture.”
“We’ll sign her up at once. Madame Luxford.”

Gabrielle’s forehead grew sweaty,
And her barefeet grew sticky,
So the wooden floorboards provided a buffer to keep from sliding
Everywhere.

Time to dance with socks.
She would slip around, pretending
To be a ballerina like Fleur.

Child, structure comes to you quite soon. Forewarned.

Enjoy the carefree
Times.

Point
of the toe
and leaping legs
leisurely listen her muscles
which lax after finishing the leap.

Point
of finger
accusing her of lazy
leaps and lethargic motions
of long limbs that should be sharp.

Point
of focus
to make twirling
less of a labor and to land
the spin in slightly less than perfect.

Point
to make
that Fleur left
for love of other pursuits
and that she would soon leap better.

Lord, let the child love
to leap and twirl like long
lilies in the lolling wind of life
that lusts for liberation in the form of art;

Needing a short break, she plopped on the ground,
Sighing with the frustration that she felt.
Her tiny feet throbbed, and a reddish welt
Appeared on the tip of her toe; she bound
Her toes together, ignoring the pain.
She knew if she showed it in her features
Madame would call out to her, “Amateur!”
And she would not let her work go in vain.
So up she went, smiling, gritting her teeth,
But the mirror showed that she could not hide
The pain she felt, the stabbing pain she tried
So desperately to withhold, to sheath.

“Gabrielle, sit down.”

The tent, so bright,
Pretty at night,
Fit for Weasley events.
‘Fore it began,
Gabby did stand,
And hoped to smell his scent.

Potter was here!
Did she mishear?
That was his messy hair!
Emerald eyes,
That handsome guy
Sitting right over there!

She did approach,
Unlike a roach,
With grace in all her steps.
English was small,
But she, enthralled,
Said “Hi!” With pep.

He was sweet,
Shifting his feet,
Discomfort in his face.
How to deny
This girl, so shy--
It’s starting! Get in place!

She sat back down,
Feeling a frown.
Fleur’s ball-gown
Wiped her sadness away.

Goodbye, she whispered.
The outline of Fleur’s lipstick
On her milk colored cheek
Remained.

She didn’t smear the stain,
She didn’t let tears muddle
The image of a gesture of
Love.

Fleur’s gloves lay, folded,
Atop Gabrielle’s trunk.
Always be a lady. Always
Strive.

And when she arrived
At the palace, that glistening
Place of magic, she
Sighed.

Gabrielle had never been shy
But the bigness, the extreme
Grandeur frightened her to her
Core.

Glittering floors, shiny windows.
The palace smelled light of dinner,
The display impressed the
Child

Who suddenly and very conveniently forgot how to be a lady.

All Bronze curls, teethy smiles, too white teeth
Laughter too sharp, those tiny prinpricks
Kicking feet, hooked arms
The new girl, new “one”

Life was over for Gabrielle.

Social, that is.
Watching, wallowing, waiting
For the pop to happen. For the burst
For the explosion of green
All eyes on the new girl, all eyes
As Gabrielle made her scene.

Whiplash has a habit of happening
On the unexpected, of jolting
victims to tears, the electricity of
Sudden. The immediate.

There was a slap. There was a soft whisper,
The loosing of trajectory as a balloon loses air.

Friend Stealer.