Disclaimer: All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites.

Summary: I suffer alone and my torment is unending. The ashes of my life surround me and I am trapped in the cruel hands of fate as I sit here in the shadows where I hide my face.

AN: This story was written in response to the 'Make Me Cry' Challenge issued by Jessi Rose on SAYS and originally posted under my penname on HPFF.


A Single Regret

Looking back hurts almost as much as looking forward, yet I can not live in the present with the memories that flood my mind and I can not hope for a better tomorrow knowing what has passed. The ashes of my life surround me and I am trapped in the cruel hands of fate as I sit here in the shadows where I hide my face. There was once a time when I thought I could escape my destiny; I know now that I was wrong, that my beliefs were nothing more then wishful dreaming.

I failed. I failed my friends. I failed those I was sworn to protect. I failed everyone and everything.

And my failure haunts my soul with every breath I take, the pain and torture of knowing what that failure cost me... what it cost those who stood behind and beside me... cuts deeper than any knife. The torment, I fear, has driven away what little sanity remained after the war. Not that I, of all people, deserve to keep my sanity, not when so many others suffered because of my mistakes.

Again, it all comes back to my failures; those wretched oversights I tried so hard to deny existed. If only there was some way I could go back and right all the wrongs – go back and fix my mistakes before they escalated out of my control. There is nothing left to go back to though, my actions saw to that. My foolish pride and arrogance insured that everything was destroyed long before I became aware of the disaster that is my life.

I can't even look forward to the blessed release of death; for death has been denied to me through my own stupidity. I couldn't even end it all myself, if I had the desire to do so, because there is nothing within my tiny cell that could be used to end my suffering. No, that tantalizing void of death's sweet kiss will forever be out of my reach. My enemies have seen to that... as have my actions.

Do I have regrets? I am no longer certain that there is enough emotion left inside of me to care enough to regret the past. I am too close to the memories to distance myself enough to consider the possibility, or the luxury, of regret. And as much as I long for my torment to end, I know that I deserve every bit of it and more. If I ever start to believe otherwise, my memories rise before my eyes and I once again see the horror upon the faces of those I have failed.

Hermione... her eyes unseeing as she stares fixedly at the churned and bloody ground before her, her face forever frozen in a silent scream that will never be voiced.

Neville... his body contorted almost beyond recognition – the result of nearly ten Death Eaters hitting him with the Cruciatus Curse at the same time. Though, fate was kind enough to spare him the ceaseless torment that his parents still suffer.

Fred and George... the two of them as inseparable in death as they were in life, their bodies entangled where they lay in a pool of their own blood. The giant that had killed them lies dieing not far away – their brilliance wasn't enough to save them this time.

Fleur... in a coma, her face garishly disfigured from the curse that had hit her during the battle. The healers expressed doubts about her eventual recovery as they transported her from the war zone to St. Mungo's.

I shift my position and the clanking of metal on stone grates loudly as the chains that bind me rattle sharply with each movement. A heaviness sinks into my heart as I raise my left arm up and stare at the cold, unfeeling iron shackle that circles my wrist. A matching one graces my right wrist as well, with two more securing my ankles to the wall that I am leaning against. If only I could chain my memories as effectively. Then maybe, just once, I could sink into the black oblivion that calls to me through my nightmares as I whimper in my sleep. My memories can't be held back so easily though and like the restraints that hold me within my prison, the past effectively locks my mind away from reality as an endless flood of death is paraded before my eyes.

Ron... his mind destroyed. He remains trapped forever within the confines of his empty mind. He has been likened to a three year old child in recent articles from the Daily Prophet.

Bill... the look of terror on his face as he is shipped off to a werewolf colony by edict of the new Ministry. He wasn't even a full werewolf; he will be by now though.

Kingsley... tortured to death by Bellatrix. He never had a chance to protect himself.

A broken sob escapes from my lips as the pain cuts through the memories for the briefest of moments and I am thankful for the pain that drives everything from my mind. The pain fades quickly though and once more the memories swamp my thoughts.

Seamus... crippled forever, his spine damaged beyond repair when the walls of the castle collapsed on his back.

Dean... presumed dead. His body never found.

Tonks... another victim of Bellatrix's cruelty. She'd been struck down by her aunt when she'd bravely charged Bellatrix in an attempt to save Kingsley.

Ginny... killed as she waded into the ring of Death Eaters that were torturing Neville. She'd been trying to save him.

Charlie...cut down by one of his beloved dragons. Voldemort had captured hundreds of the vicious creatures and the dragon handlers had been trying to take them back. They failed. Every one of them killed by the beasts they had once cared for.

Molly... a broken woman - she wails uncontrollably, surrounded by the bodies of her broken and lifeless children and husband. They later locked her away in St Mungo's on the same day that Bill was carted off to the werewolf colonies.

This time I am interrupted by the creaking of rusted hinges as the door on my cell is pushed open from the outside. A face peers around the doors and I find myself staring into the frighteningly familiar cold blue eyes of Draco Malfoy, his face twisted into a mocking smirk as he steps inside my cell. In his hands he carries a shallow bowl of thin gruel and a small cup of water. As I stare up at him he allows the bowl to slip from his fingers and crash to the ground where it shatters – spilling the only meal I am likely to receive today. The water soon follows the food as he simply tips the cup and pours the precious liquid onto the stone floor.

His voice slices through air, but I can barely hear him over the fuzz that has settled into my brain from lack of food and sleep. Only his cruel laughter registers as he lashes out with a booted foot to kick me in the side. The pain of the blow rushes up to meet me as he laughs again. I make as if to strike him back but he is already leaving, still laughing as he pulls the door shut and locks me inside my prison once more. My stomach recoils and only the fact that I have eaten nothing in days prevents me from vomiting.

Long minutes pass as I lie on the floor gasping for breath through the pain that wracks my body. It burns and the pain cuts right to the core. The passing time means nothing to me and my only conscious thought is a prayer for the pain to end. Even the blinding pain can not block out the torment of my memories for long though, and as I lay half paralyzed upon the floor the images come once more.

Oliver... fighting two Death Eaters for his life. He holds his own for a few precious minutes before he goes down under the Cruciatus curse. They torture him only long enough to prevent him from defending himself, then the green light of the killing curse engulfs him and he is dead.

Lavender... was gallantly defending a group of terrified first years. They would have died if not for her bravery. She paid for her courage with her life.

Professor McGonagall... killed by Voldemort personally for taking Dumbledore's place as the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. Her death came just hours before the final battle and the blow of her loss had sewn seeds of doubt into the hearts of those sworn to defend the castle.

Hagrid... killed when the walls of the castle crumbled over top of him. His body forever lost beneath the rubble.

Lee... Angelina... Viktor... Luna... Remus... Flitwick... and so many more... The list is unending, forever snaking through my thoughts as I lie curled up here in the shadows of my cell. They are all dead, betrayed by my hands; their suffering haunts my waking moments and fills my sleep with nightmares.

The memories cycle through and at long last I come to the moment that cuts deeper then all that came before. It is the moment of my failure, the moment I handed victory to Voldemort and destroyed the lives of an entire world. In my mind I see him raise his wand at me once more as I lie helpless at his feet and for the first time I realize that I have just one regret. The one thing, the only thing, that I know should not have happened.

He should have never let me live. He showed his only weakness that day. You see, he was afraid that if he tried to kill me he would fail as he had failed so many times before. So, in his moment of triumph, he let his doubts color his judgment and he lowered his wand and walked away from me. All around me were the bodies of my friends, the dead and the dying, and he walked away from the one thing he had lusted after for nearly twenty years – my death.

Sometimes I wonder if he was aware of the cruel irony of that moment. If he had known, that by allowing me to live, he'd sentenced me to an unending hell that could never have been granted with death. I don't think he even remembers that I exist anymore though, for I have been locked down here for well over two years and not once has he come to gloat over his victory. His minions tell me that he couldn't care less about my fate. I think he is too afraid to face his only fear.

My opinions don't matter though, and the small satisfaction I might have gained with the knowledge of Voldemort's only fallacy fades as I see my own face before my eyes...

Harry Potter... the boy who lived. The boy who failed. The fool who thought he could defeat the Dark Lord. The battle lasted only a minute before I was overcome with anger and hatred, and in that moment he had won. I let my emotions cloud my judgment and it is the world that suffers for my stupidity.

My visions fade for a single, sweet moment and then the memories begin anew. My screams echo between the walls of my tiny cell as I rage at the cruel twist of fate that falsely marked me as a savior.

I failed. I failed my friends. I failed those I was sworn to protect. I failed everyone and everything.


* * * THE END * * *