Disclaimer: Whatever you recognize doesn't belong to me.
You Spoke Beautiful Words.
That night, everyone was celebrating and mourning at the same time. He had chosen to stay alone and try to sleep. Just forget it all. Forget the flash of green light that had taken a life that was so dear to him. Forget that he could've done something. Not remember - simply not remember. He had been doing a good job at it lately. Quidditch kept him distracted and spring was a delightfully hopeful time of the year.
It's not that he felt like much of an adult now, with twenty-two years of age and his whole life right in front of him. But he felt that the one who had fought in the final battle had been an innocent child. He had never had to let go of anyone dear to him.
Thinking about not thinking made him go back to the same thing he was avoiding. Eyes wide open. He couldn't stop recalling memories about his old friend.
How much he wished he could talk to her! He wanted to tell her so many things! He just couldn't forget. That lithe body he had carried to the Great Hall... her face, once full and joyful was pale and devoid of life. Sometimes, he still felt responsible. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault.
He sighed, got up and stretched. His whole body was sore from all the exercise he had done earlier. They didn't have training on that half-festive-half-mournful day, but he wouldn't allow himself to get out of shape. And he needed to keep his head focused on his current life and not just think about the War.
But everything had come back to him at that point, and he realized he must let it all out. No one was there to see him get emotional. No one was there to judge.
He was still holding in his tears when he resolved to walk up to his desk. Parchment, quill and ink waited for him to spill his thoughts.
He still thought about his friend, and his need to get to her. Without giving it too much thought, his hand flew to take the quill, dipped it in dark ink and start marking the parchment, forming her name.
The rest came out in its own accord.
"Dear Katie,
It might please you to know that I'm doing well. I'm still the reserve Keeper for Puddlemere, and as you know, that's fantastic. My parents are doing great. Dad just retired, so he just spends his free time building his own Quidditch supplies from scratch. He still can't get the hang of bludgers.
If all is well, then why am I writing? Well, as you probably know, today is the anniversary of your death. I miss you - well, you're missed by many. Angelina says that she hopes you and Fred are still playing on the same team in Heaven, seeing as the rest of us aren't. Me? I don't believe in heaven, and was angry for a long time that war took two of the finest players I've known. Two people who were simply in love with life.
For the past year, I've been dealing with the fact that you were killed by a Death Eater in front of my eyes. It's a nightmare that's been haunting me. I've grieved, mourned, cried, got angry, took blame and writing it all like this helped me cope even when Quidditch wouldn't. However, for the past few weeks, I've found myself simply enjoying life and sleeping well at nights. I still think of you and what happened, but somehow it's starting to stay in the past. At the beginning I felt guilty because it felt like I was forgetting you... then again, I couldn't possibly forget you, ever. So I'm letting myself take steps to accept what happened and move on. I'm quite certain you'd approve of this behaviour.
I'm writing this from the desk under the big window. Remember that flat I live in? You seemed to like it even when the boxes were still unpacked. The desk is under the window because you commandingly suggested that it should be so that one time you stopped by for a visit. I remember looking out this very same window - you were standing under the streetlamp, waiting for me to let you in. You looked pretty in your cherry-red winter coat and that woollen white hat you left here by accident. The orange light made your face full and lively and that is how I'll always remember you, Katie. You were bursting with life, even in the darkest times. Your health was still frail from the curse and your long stay in St. Mungo's, but not once did I see your smile and your blush go away. Years did you well, Katie. I'm sure you would've only become more charming with time if you were still here.
After you had stepped in, complimented my apartment and accepted a cup of tea, we proceeded to have the most amazing talk. We mentioned the ongoing war, but we quickly turned conversation around to talk about the good times in Hogwarts. Then about our jobs; you weren't playing for the Magpies yet, but you still rooted for them. We argued for a bit until you told me you were happy for my victories even when your team lost. I was honest when I answered I though your optimism was quite childish. You said that it took a mature mind to be happy even when there seems to be no reason to. You got caught up in that thread of thought, and started telling me that you felt the world was darker every day, and the struggle to be happy in the midst of this mess was getting harder. The scars will always be there, you said. Pain leaves such obvious reminders while pleasure is a bit too fleeting...
You spoke beautiful words. And you always had such a keen eye for beauty! You knew how to paint the brightest pictures in my head. In Hogwarts, I'd say a word about missing Glasgow, yet the way you described York made me long for it. When we talked about Quidditch, you rarely failed to mention the landscapes and the sensations that were secondary to the game. You insisted it made the game special.
I must confess that, until the battle at Hogwarts, I thought it was silly. But when your death forced me to think about it, I found that your words set a brighter light over what's in front of my eyes. I only regret not having this talk with you at Hogwarts. There was so much I could've learned from you, but I was too caught up in my own little world to care about anything other than Quidditch. And for that, I'm sorry.
You made me realize that life's too hard of a climb to ignore the beauty that surrounds the road. And now, climbing to the top just seems easier. I'm growing as a human being, and I love every second of the process.
Is it scary? Yes. Of all the things, I was terrified of living on my own (and I told you this.) You found it amusing. The boy that's never even done the dishes, you said. How was I supposed to clean my own mess? To take care of myself? To cook for myself? It was a challenge, and I never turn challenges down. It was the best decision I've made. I woke up from the hazy dream that was Hogwarts and the warmth of my childhood home, to a reality that was harsh and required my full attention. However, I was happy to be the master of my own destiny. Your words that night helped me move forward even more.
That's the thing no one tells you about growing up - you never stop. We believe that one day, we'll be victims of a spell and we'll suddenly be adults, maybe the day that we left Hogwarts, maybe when we're financially independent. But when you think about it, it's almost like we left our homes when we were eleven. We were allowed to start forming an identity the very moment we walked into Hogwarts. And we keep forming an identity the moment we walk out. We're adults when we leave Hogwarts, and yet we still have a great deal of growing up to do.
So I've thought long and hard about it and I think you're right. I must stop being so bitter and get stronger. Childhood didn't just end when I moved out and grew up a bit. That's just part of this process I'm learning to love, and so is letting you go (which I love slightly less, but you'll understand it's necessary.) I have a new life now after the War, and I want to become more like the person you were.
I need to always remember that there are nice things in this mess... The world might be turning to ashes, but hey, there's still Quidditch in it.
Forever your Captain,
Oliver."
Notes: This fanfic is a response to the 'Love Letter With a Twist' challenge in HPFC. My character was Oliver, and the subject he had to write a love letter about was growing up and/or leaving home. I was given five prompts too (paint, climb, streetlamp, hat, commandingly.) I hope it's evident that while he deeply admires Katie, this wasn't what made him feel compelled to write this.
Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Special thanks to The Original Horcrux for agreeing to beta this one!
-Karyn.