"Let It Be."

A/N: Okay, I drive for a total of over 16 hours in the car this weekend with my mom while visiting relatives in the hellhole (AKA the state of Ohio). My mom's obsessed with the Beatles, as am I... Beatles songs were my lullabies as a kid. If you don't like them, shut up, cause you suck. Anyhow. This is the song, "Let It Be." I'm gonna leave the characters a (gasp) mystery this time. It could be a male/male paring, could be a female/male pairing, and it could be any HP timeframe. You just never know. I hardly ever make second chapters for fics, so it's all up to you to decide who the characters are. I won't be posting it. If you REALLY, REALLY wanna know, beg me via e-mail. I might tell you. Flames and reviews always welcome, as usual.

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He had never quite believed in Muggle religion. Of course he knew about it, he just didn't really think it worked. But, who really knew? He'd prayed to the Muggle god before, but nothing ever happened. No lightening bolts came flying from the sky. No bushes burst into flame. He didn't quite understand Muggle religion, to be quite honest, but he did find it rather intriguing. He'd always liked to read, and he had found the Muggle bible very interesting.

He never really gave me a concrete answer as to what he believed in. There was so much out there that he knew about, I think that he had a hard time figuring out what was right. I mean, really, he followed Muggle science and religion, wizard religion (which, in my opinion, is utter bullshit), and magic, among other things. I don't think he ever chose something to believe in. Which is why he always seemed lost at times. I don't think anyone else really noticed it. But I could always see it, when he got lost, drowning in a sea of information.

But I'm going too far. I'm here to narrate something that happened a long time ago, not talk on and on and on. Then again, everyone always did say that I was the most eloquent of us three. Really, we were all good with words, but in different ways. I could talk, he could read, and he could write. Anyhow. On with the story, shall I?

-

Picture this: A cold winter night.

A faint knock comes at the door, which I willingly open. "What are you doing here?! It's below freezing outside!" I pull him inside, brushing the snow off his shoulders and wrapping him in a hug.

"Been on Order work."

"You're going to make yourself sick out there in the cold like that, you KNOW you get sick easier than other people do..."

"I'm not sick." As soon as he finishes speaking, he sneezes and smiles apologetically. "Sorry."

Laying my hand on his forehead, I can feel that his body temperature is up. "You ARE sick; come here and sit do---"

Before I can even take his coat, he falls over in a faint. I catch him easily, lifting his thin, battered frame and draping it over my old ratty couch in the next room.

When I find myself in times of trouble,
Mother Mary comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom,
Let it be.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. I'm tempted to lose myself in his soul right then and there, but I don't. I just care about his health, at least at the moment. No, wait, I lied. I DO care about him, I care about all of him, it's just that, right now, I want him to get better. That's it. I want him to get better so that I can love him again.

His words surprise me. "You know, you look rather like... An angel. Or something."

I'm not sure whether to laugh or not. "An angel?"

"Yeah. My guardian angel."

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
Speaking words of wisdom,
Let it be.

"So, I'm a guardian angel?"

"Yeah, something like... Mary, mother of god. Or something."

"Hey now, I'm not the mother of god..."

"Well, close enough."

Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom,
Let it be.

I touch his face, gently. It's burning beneath my fingertips. "You're really sick."

"I know... Dunno how I got sick, though."

"How long were you traveling out in the snow?"

"No idea. Something like a week... Or more..."

"Well then, THAT would do it for you."

He just nods, closing his eyes. He looks tired.

"And, am I stuck with you while you're sick?"

"Oh no, no you don't have to be, I need to get my business taken care of anyway, no, I'm sorry..."

I laugh. "You would get your contact sick, smart one."

"No, but really, I don't want to be a burden, I'll just get outta here..." He tries to sit up, but falls over.

"You're not going anywhere." I've got my hand on his chest, pushing him gently back down.

"But I---"

I cut him off with a chaste kiss. "Let it be."

-

And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree,
There will be an answer,
Let it be.

That's a nice story, isn't it? But that's all behind us now. Now, now we haven't seen each other in years. I'm assuming he hates me. He has every reason to. Everyone else hates me. I just love him. I just want to see him again. But I can't. Those days are gone. Did you like my little story?

For though they may be parted,
There is still a chance that they will see,
There will be an answer,
Let it be.

I'd like to tell you where he is now, what he's doing. But I just don't know. We never talk anymore. I remember taking care of him, though. He said that I was his guardian angel. That meant a lot to me. A whole lot.

Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Yeah there will be an answer,
Let it be.

He was always the one with all the answers, but no opinion. That's why he could never really believe in anything. I was always the one telling him to make his own opinions, to let the facts alone, to think from his heart. That's why he believed in me.

Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom,
Let it be.

Guess I steered him wrong, didn't I? I mean, look at me now, sitting here talking to you. I'm filth, scum, no-good, dirty, rotten, etcetera. You probably hate me. They all hate me. Even he hates me. I know he does.

Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom,
Let it be.

Although, as I'm sitting here thinking about it, he probably doesn't hate me from his heart. He probably only hates me because of the facts. He never was good at thinking from his heart. He just used his head. God, I wish I could get though to him, let him know that his faith in me doesn't go unnoticed. But it's too late now. It's too late for anything.

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me,
Shine until tomorrow,
Let it be.

Hey, look over there, out the window. See that star? No, not that one, the one right next to it. Yeah, that one. That's our star. He always said it was special, that it was ours, and we used to wish on it together every night. I'm glad I can still see it. I wonder if he's wishing on it tonight, too.

I wake up to the sound of music,
Mother Mary comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom,
Let it be.

We used to sing an annoying little song about stars. Made our astronomy teacher batty. Great fun, that. He loved the part we made up about our star. We used to bewitch random objects to sing it. And, of course, we'd sing along.

Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Oh there will be an answer,
Let it be.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to us. I know what happened, rationally, I know all the facts. But what I really wonder about is what happened to our souls, our hearts. Why did everything have to turn out the way it did? Why can't he be with me? Why aren't we still in love?

Then, I have to stop all the whys and what ifs from going around in my head and tell myself what I always used to tell him: Let it be.

Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom,
Let it be.